


The House of Sorrows

by Lunar_Pull



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:48:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28463379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunar_Pull/pseuds/Lunar_Pull
Summary: Jiyong and Youngbae, newly married, stood at the foot of the stairs that led to the front porch of their new house - which led to their worst nightmares coming true - with their arms around each other’s waists. They looked up at their future with hopeful, bright eyes.
Relationships: Choi Seunghyun | T.O.P./Kang Daesung, Dong Youngbae | Taeyang/Kwon Jiyong | G-Dragon
Kudos: 6





	1. Part I: The Beginning

Looking back, there was nothing odd or remarkable to signal the doom that became their lives. There were no alarm bells, no red flags, no chilling prophecies to warn them of impending horror.

Jiyong and Youngbae, newly married, stood at the foot of the stairs that led to the front porch of their new house - which led to their worst nightmares coming true - with their arms around each other’s waists. They looked up at their future with hopeful, bright eyes.

“It’s really happening,” Jiyong whispered, face buried in Youngbae’s neck as the rumble of the moving truck came closer and closer.

Youngbae tightened his grip around Jiyong’s hips, thumb rubbing against the sharp jut of his pelvis soothingly. Jiyong couldn’t see his answering smile, but he knew it was there.

“Our own home,” Youngbae whispered, voice light and full of quiet joy.

It was what they’d been dreaming of since they had met and fallen in love: to live in a place that recognized their commitment to each other and to own a little piece of the Earth; to make it warm and safe for their future children.

Their dream was sitting right in front of them.

So, no - if you had asked Jiyong and Youngbae if they had any idea what was going to happen to them, they would have told you that they didn’t.

There was no way for them to know.

Jiyong might have said that the only warning they got was that for the first time in his life he had been too happy.

* * *

There was nothing special about the house.

It was cheaper than most houses of comparable size and age, mostly because it was in the middle of nowhere and years of abandonment meant it was in need of various repairs. "A real fixer-upper" the American real estate agent had called it. Paint chips fluttered lose every time one entered a room and the floorboards creaked so much that it was a wonder the place had passed the state inspection.

To an outside observer, the house was a lost cause. To Jiyong and Youngbae, it was perfect.

Youngbae adored working with his hands and the thought of spending the entire summer making the crumbling structure into a gorgeous home had the shorter man in a daze.

Jiyong watched him help the movers with the heavy boxes and furniture, entranced by the graceful flex of his muscles under lightly-tanned skin and the sweat collecting on his brows. They’d been together for almost seven years and married for eleven months yet Jiyong still couldn’t believe that the handsome man was all his.

The sweet smile that Youngbae sent his way when he caught Jiyong looking at him almost took his breath away.

The appeal of the house for Jiyong had been its very unappealing nature. It was far out of town, isolated, and a definite eyesore but Jiyong had always loved the dark horses and the unexpected heroes. He was a writer, after all. His career was built upon making the ordinary seem extraordinary; his chosen craft was to make even the ugly parts of life have some sort of deeper meaning.

Jiyong could be happy here.

He began to unpack the boxes in the living room in search of a lamp and he imagined that one day he would hear the soft footfalls of a little boy or girl running through the halls, caught up in a game of hide-and-seek with the family dog.

Jiyong couldn’t help but smile.

“Babe, do you want the table in the dining room or in the kitchen?” Youngbae’s voice interrupted Jiyong’s musings.

“It doesn’t matter, we can move it later.”

“Are you sure?” Youngbae asked, wiping his face with dirty hands. He was soaked in sweat and probably smelled like a gym locker room. Jiyong still walked over to him and kissed him softly.

“Yes, I’m sure,” he said and something in his tone let Youngbae know that he was sure about much more than just where the table should go. They had always had an uncanny ability to understand - to hear the things they didn't say.

Youngbae grinned and pulled Jiyong into a sweaty, awful-smelling embrace, but Jiyong didn’t mind.

That night, with the movers gone and their lives still packed away in what seemed like a hundred boxes, Jiyong and Youngbae ate pizza for dinner sitting cross-legged on the floor of their home. Jiyong never did find that lamp - a fact that led to a small argument about how Jiyong had _told_ Youngbae to label all the boxes by room but the other man had _insisted_ that he would remember where everything was if they only numbered the boxes - so they ate by candlelight and the faint glow of the moon streaming in through the bay window.

“I love you,” Youngbae said, mouth full of cheese. “And I’m sorry about the boxes.”

Jiyong frowned, despite the fact that his frustration had faded hours ago. “I love you, too. And, just for the record, I told you so.”

Youngbae grinned and set his food aside, moving towards Jiyong suddenly to land sticky kisses all over his face. “You’re so cute when you’re smug.”

“If I’m smug then you’re a total fool,” Jiyong retorted, but he was returning Youngbae’s kisses and wrapping his arms around his neck.

“Only for you, babe,” Youngbae said.

They made love on the floor of their new home, in the symbol of their new life, surrounded by flickering candles and dark shapes and Jiyong lost himself in Youngbae’s hands and in the smooth planes of his body and by the time he came - mouth shaped into a silent ‘o’ - he had already decided that this was the best night of his life.

Better than their honeymoon, even, because that night was all hopes and dreams and _this_ night was all about the reality of their love. Jiyong had always been about reasonable goals over starry-eyed wishes.

* * *

The grocery store was a forty-minute drive away and it kind of annoyed Jiyong.

He didn’t mention it, though. He probably wouldn’t get the chance anyhow, seeing as how Youngbae was waxing nostalgic about the kind of house he always dreamed of as a kid and making plans to add a second bedroom to the upstairs once they were able to save up enough money for the expenses.

Those who knew Youngbae as an acquaintance would probably label him as quiet. Those who knew him well, like Jiyong, understood that he just didn’t talk when he didn’t have anything to say. But when he did, the man could talk your ear off.

Jiyong smiled and laced his fingers together with Youngbae’s, content and satisfied with everything about the man.

“We can do whatever you want later, but today, let’s just get some food and fix the sink.”

It took forty-five minutes to get all the ingredients for the _andong jjimdak_ they wanted to make that night because the grocery store was huge and the layout was confusing, Jiyong still hadn’t mastered all the English phrases for food items, and Youngbae forgot how to say ‘chicken’ when he tried to ask the store clerk for assistance.

Jiyong stumbled upon him a few minutes after they’d split up to browse through different aisles and the sight he was greeted with made his heart swell. Youngbae was flapping his arms wildly, in imitation of the bird, and Jiyong watched him stumble through a conversation with a kindly older couple who helped them find the meat section of the store.

Five minutes later, the couple had already exchanged phone numbers with Jiyong and Youngbae and invited them over for Friday night dinner.

Jiyong remained mostly silent throughout the encounter, despite the fact that his accent was much better than Youngbae’s. He smiled though because he loved seeing Youngbae like this - assertive and outgoing. He’d always been in Jiyong’s shadow, back in Seoul, but now, he was flourishing beautifully and the Americans they met fell hard for his easy smile and his interesting accent.

It made Jiyong incredibly proud of his man.

He made a mental note to show Youngbae just how proud he was when they got home.

* * *

The house was fucking hot.

It was unbearable, sweltering with early summer heat, and no amount of strategically-placed electrical fans and opened windows could make up for the fact that Youngbae still hadn’t been able to fix the air conditioning unit.

“I’m working it,” Youngbae called out from the basement, after he’d heard a particularly loud groan from Jiyong. He knew he was meant to hear the sound. Jiyong was never subtle.

“I’m dying, Bae-ah. I’m dying and when I die I’m going to haunt your ass for killing me!”

Youngbae sighed and set down the wrench. “I didn’t realize it would be this hot, babe. Come down here and help me, if it’s so bad.”

“You’re the fixer. You fix it,” came Jiyong’s response and Youngbae couldn’t help but laugh.

“Does that make you the lounger?”

“It takes a lot of rest to look this beautiful. Rest, by the way, that I haven’t been able to get because it’s so fucking hot in here.”

Youngbae sat up. He was covered in filth and sweating profusely and maybe another man would have been angry with Jiyong for not understanding how much hard work he was putting into this task and this house, but Youngbae had always found Jiyong’s diva-like tendencies to be mostly harmless and kind of adorable.

He was so gone on the guy.

Ever since the night the lithe young man had strolled up to him confidently at a nightclub and promised that by the end the end of the night, Youngbae would fall head over heels for him. He was right.

“I was drunk,” Jiyong had once told him about the first night they met. “I don’t even remember saying that.”

It didn’t matter. Youngbae remembered.

He always remembered everything about his favorite boy.

“You should come down here, there’s lots of weird stuff lying around.”

A loud, exasperated sigh and the creak of the living room floorboards signaled Jiyong’s approach. He stomped down the stairs to the basement, obviously still frustrated, and Youngbae tried to suppress his grin, knowing that nothing made Jiyong more livid than when he smiled in the face of his anger.

“It smells awful down here,” Jiyong cried, covering his nose with his hands.

“I know, I think there might be some dead animal or something,” Youngbae responded, kneeling beside the air conditioning unit and trying his luck again.

“Ew, that’s disgusting. I’m going back up.”

“Wait,” Youngbae said. He really only wanted Jiyong’s company. “It’s cooler down here. Plus, I think you should look around and see if you find anything interesting.”

“Why don’t _you_ do it?” The way Jiyong pouted and put his hands on his hips would have probably annoyed someone without the infinite reserves of patience Youngbae possessed. All he saw when he looked at Jiyong was a pretty mouth, the perfect amount of curves, and a shining soul.

And maybe just a bit too much ego.

But, hey, Youngbae could deal with a little flaw like that.

“Do you want me to fix this or do you want me to look around with you?”

“Fine,” Jiyong conceded. He poked around the basement, looking for anything the previous owners might have left behind. There was your average array of forgotten tools, a few boxes of old photographs, and some unsalvageable pieces of furniture. Nothing too intriguing. Nothing to arouse any suspicion.

They had not been told much about past owners. Only that house had been abandoned for about ten years and that no one knew what became of the last owners. Maybe there was some tragedy etched into the walls of the house but as far as Jiyong and Youngbae were concerned, nothing could dampen the good feeling they had about it.

Except maybe how damn hot it was.

A sudden clank of metal and a humming noise later, Youngbae had won the battle against the air conditioning unit and Jiyong forgot all about looking for clues.

They celebrated their small triumph by making out until the stench of the basement was too much for Jiyong’s sensibilities and they made their way back into the sunlit first floor of the house. Caught up in each other’s panting, smiling mouths, neither of them noticed the basement door slowly shut on its own.


	2. Part II: The Bliss

When Jiyong opened his eyes, it was still dark outside.

Not completely black, like midnight. There was a soft blue tint to everything, the kind that means that the sun is about to rise, and the cool hue made the bedroom look surreal.

Jiyong didn’t stir. He simply watched from the bed, wrapped up in too many blankets, as Youngbae flitted around the room as quietly as possible, getting ready for his first day at his new job.

He didn’t realize that Jiyong was awake and the writer preferred to keep it that way. He watched his love move around the room with a gentle poise in his steps and words for yet another poem about Youngbae’s beauty made their way into his head. Jiyong knew they’d be gone by the time he awoke fully to try and write them down.

The worst part of being a writer - at least in Jiyong’s opinion - was that most of the time, words breezed by you. Sometimes, there wasn’t a notepad or laptop or even just a moment of peace to sit down and put the words in your head onto paper. Writing was really only comparable to trying to keep water in your cupped hands - most of it just slipped through your fingers.

Well, at least Youngbae wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. There would be time for sonnets later.

Jiyong let out a contented sigh.

“Did I wake you?” Youngbae asked, always perceptive.

Jiyong smiled and opened his arms. “Yeah, but it’s alright. I don’t want you to leave without saying goodbye.”

Youngbae, clad in his work attire and tie still undone, made his way to the bed and snuggled into Jiyong’s arms. Jiyong understood. He could feel the nervous energy thrumming beneath Youngbae’s skin.

“Don’t worry, you’re going to do great,” he comforted, lips softly pressing against the Youngbae’s temple.

“I know,” Youngbae said, even though something in his voice still held disbelief. “I’d rather be here with you, though.”

Jiyong delicately ran his thin fingers through the tuft of hair on the top of Youngbae’s head.

“Well, if you want to get that second bedroom, one of us is going to have to earn a paycheck…”

Youngbae’s lips curved into a smile. Jiyong could feel it on his neck.

“The sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll come back.”

Youngbae sat up and Jiyong took the opportunity to sit up in bed, as well, to help his man finish doing his tie. Youngbae was horrible at tying it himself. As he tucked the silky material into a perfect knot Jiyong pecked little kisses onto the other man’s face, hoping to ease some of his worries.

All Jiyong ever wanted to do was make life easier for Youngbae.

“What are you going to do today?” Youngbae asked, his tone already a bit less stressed.

“Not sure. Probably rearrange the living room. Now that we’ve got internet I might try to chat with my family.”

“Don’t forget to call Tablo-hyung. Let me know if you get to see Haru.”

Jiyong smirked. Perhaps the only person Youngbae loved in equal measure was their unofficial niece. “Sure, honey. I’ll say hello for you.”

Youngbae kissed Jiyong deeply then, slowly pushing his sharp shoulders down into the bed as he climbed over him and Jiyong knew he was teasing the hell out of him, that he’d suddenly sit up and run off to work, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be upset when Youngbae’s lips were tangled with his.

Their parting was vaguely sorrowful and later on, Jiyong would find it odd that his heart clenched so much even though his mind knew Youngbae would be back some hours later.

As the dawn broke, Jiyong watched from the porch as the shape of their car become smaller and smaller until it rounded the edge of the driveway. And just like that, Youngbae was gone.

* * *

The house was different without Youngbae there.

Jiyong noticed it almost right away, a subtle change that would have probably slipped past someone less observant. It was different, but Jiyong couldn’t quite place his finger on how.

It just was.

Sitting at his desk in the study room, Jiyong stared at the blank page on the screen. He sipped from his steaming mug of tea and tried not to panic. Inspiration would come later. Perhaps when Youngbae came home.

When Youngbae had landed a job as a Hangul translator for the American government, Jiyong hadn’t even batted an eyelash at the thought of leaving his family, friends, and successful writing career. All of it paled in comparison to the possibility of living in a state that recognized their marriage.

Jiyong had been a rather self-absorbed young man until Youngbae came into his life and showed him the exquisite torture of loving someone more than yourself.

Jiyong would do anything for him, and luckily, he could write from anywhere in the world. He didn’t mind the idea of solitary days. He’d always been good at being alone.

The problem was that Jiyong had been plagued with an awful case of writer’s block for the past few months and the numerous emails from his publisher, demanding that he send them at least the plot of his next novel were really starting to tick him off. He was an artist, for God’s sake, not a trained monkey who executed tricks upon command.

He was close to writing a scathing email in response to yet another request for details of his newest work when a familiar icon popped up on his home screen. He answered the call right away.

“Oppa!”

Four-year-old Haru’s face filled the screen, a wide smile plastered on her toddler features, and Jiyong couldn’t control himself. He smiled widely, too.

“Good morning, Haru.”

Jiyong could hear Haru talking with her father. "It’s not morning, Daddy, why is he saying that?" Jiyong heard the confused toddler say.

Tablo’s face showed up on the screen then, once Haru had sat on his lap.

“Jiyong, how are you? Picking up the language well?” he asked in English.

“Yeah, Tablo-hyung, I’m learning,” Jiyong responded, his accent nearly perfect. His heart fluttered at Tablo’s prideful smile. He’d always loved making the older man proud.

“Good, good. And how’s Youngbae-ah? You taking care of my _dongsaeng_?”

Of course, Jiyong thought. It was a wonder Tablo had waited all of three seconds to ask about Youngbae.

When Jiyong had first met Youngbae, he had found out that the man had recently been disowned by his parents after confessing to them that he was a homosexual. It made Jiyong incredibly angry, especially since he himself had been blessed with a wonderfully supportive family. He thought Youngbae deserved the same.

Luckily, though, an older lifelong friend of Youngbae had taken him under his wing. His name was Tablo and if there was ever such a thing as angels on this Earth, he was the closest thing to it. He took Youngbae into his home and family, making him his unofficial little brother, and he threatened to rip Jiyong a new one if he ever hurt Youngbae the very first time he came over for dinner. Jiyong kind of loved him for it.

“He’s fine. He’s at work already. I think he was nervous about his first day.”

Tablo frowned. “Tell him not to worry about it, he’s the best. And if something happens, I’ll get on a plane and go kick all their asses.”

Jiyong fought the urge to roll his eyes. Tablo couldn’t kick _anyone’s_ ass. “Does little Haru miss us?”

The little girl nodded sadly, eyes big and wet.

“Don’t worry, Haru,” Jiyong soothed. “You’ll visit us soon.”

“Where’s Youngbae-oppa?” she asked. “I miss him.”

“I know, I know. He misses you, too. Maybe if you’re still awake when he gets home, we can talk again.”

“How’s the writing going?” Tablo interrupted.

“Horribly," Jiyong confessed. "I can’t think of a single thing to write about.”

“You’ll find something soon. You should write about the new house. Can you give us a little tour?”

A loud crash interrupted their conversation. The noise made Jiyong jump in his seat.

“Maybe later, I think something fell in the basement. I gotta go check it out.”

After a quick goodbye, Jiyong made his way towards the basement. His heartbeat sped up as he slowly walked down the stairs, each step along the way creaking and groaning in a way that curiously made the house seem alive.

Like it was mourning.

Jiyong couldn’t find the switch for the light but it was still late morning and bright enough from the opened door to at least see everything inside.

Strangely enough, though, nothing had been knocked over.

Jiyong clicked his tongue, confused and a bit embarrassed. He was so sure that he’d heard something. He wondered if Tablo-hyung had heard it, too. The sound had been loud enough, for sure.

Jiyong shrugged his shoulders and walked up the stairs again.

He didn’t want to be in that basement for a moment longer than he had to.

* * *

When Youngbae returned, the first thing Jiyong felt was an overwhelming relief. He felt a calm wash over him when he heard the sound of their car in their driveway and he didn’t wonder why he had missed him so much. Jiyong didn’t find it the least bit odd, at least not yet, that he was so damn happy to have Youngbae home.

All he could think was _finally_.

Jiyong was in the kitchen, the cookbook he was studying carefully was laid open on the counter. Cooking dinner was a very serious business to Jiyong and at the time, he was using the task to distract himself from the unplaceable feeling of strangeness that had plagued him throughout the relatively uneventful day.

When Youngbae walked in, he had the silliest smile on his face.

“Hi, gorgeous,” he greeted, setting down his briefcase and not wasting any time in wrapping his arms around Jiyong, kissing him long and hard.

Youngbae had missed him, too.

“Youngbae, I’m in the middle of something,” Jiyong scolded, even as he returned the kisses, even as he understood.

Youngbae only grinned. “I’ll be right back.”

Jiyong continued slicing vegetables and tossing them in the steaming pots of sauce and when he heard the sound of Youngbae’s favorite raunchy R&B song streaming from their stereo, he couldn’t help but smile.

Youngbae was so easy to read.

The man stepped back into the kitchen, tie and the top buttons of his dress shirt undone to reveal his sculpted chest, and though Jiyong felt himself blush at the sight of the intense look in Youngbae’s eyes, he decided to play hard to get.

He made a show of looking away from his husband, of concentrating on making dinner. Youngbae circled the island counter in the kitchen slowly, unbuttoning the sleeves of his collared shirt and staring at Jiyong like he was the only thing in the world. From the corner of his eye, Jiyong could see him lick his lips.

Jiyong shivered.

“I thought about you all day today,” Youngbae began, when he reached Jiyong’s position by the stove. He put his hands on the counter on either side of the thinner man, breath ghosting on the sensitive flesh on the back of his slender neck.

“Is that so?” Jiyong asked, his voice perfectly nonchalant, perfectly undisturbed. He continued chopping ingredients.

“Yes,” Youngbae responded, his voice now reaching that husky tone that made Jiyong crazy. He began kissing the nape of Jiyong’s neck and the taller man was unsure how much longer he could hold out. He wanted him so, so bad. He’d missed him so much.

“I kept thinking about our trip to Venice.”

Jiyong sucked in a breath and set the knife down. “What did you think about?”

Youngbae’s hands settled at Jiyong’s narrow waist. He knew he had him now.

“I thought about all the things you let me do to you. I thought about how we were there for a week and we didn’t even see the sights until the very last day.”

Jiyong sucked in a trembling breath. He recalled the seemingly unending fantastic torture of spending almost the entire week holed up in their hotel room, barely emerging except to eat dinner, doing nothing but fucking and sleeping and fucking and sleeping. At one point, Jiyong had thought his body might not be able to handle it anymore, but Youngbae had soothed him with burning lips, ornate words, and a filthy little promise.

“Why were you thinking about that?”

Youngbae chuckled. “Because you’re the sexiest man I’ve ever seen and I get to have you all to myself.”

Jiyong spun around in the circle of Youngbae’s strong arms. Stared him down. Rose to the challenge. “What are you gonna do with me?”

Youngbae smirked, crooked and sexy, and Jiyong wondered what the hell had gotten into his sweet husband. He hadn’t been this assertive in ages. It turned Jiyong on so much it was almost painful.

“What do you want me to do with you?” Youngbae asked, fingers gently stroking up and down Jiyong’s back.

“I want you to take me,” Jiyong breathed and Youngbae did exactly that.

Somewhere along the way, amidst the steam and the water from the pots boiling over, the couple made love - or maybe fucked - in the kitchen, with the lights all turned on and smell of uncooked kimchi filling their noses.

Youngbae grunted and Jiyong sighed and they were so lost - so lost in the smoke, in their love, and in each other’s racing hearts.

They didn’t notice it.

They didn’t hear the house sigh, too.

* * *

Youngbae loved to sing in the shower.

It was one of Jiyong’s favorite little tidbits about his husband, that no matter the time of day, no matter how short the shower, Youngbae always found time to belt out a song.

Jiyong could hear him now, lilting voice crooning an old Michael Jackson hit, barely getting the words right. He was close to shouting out a joke about Youngbae’s English skills when Tablo-hyung’s icon popped up on his screen again.

“Tablo-hyung,” Jiyong greeted. “You called at just the right time. Youngbae’s almost out of the shower.”

“I can hear him singing all the way over here,” Tablo responded, through his laughter.

Jiyong frowned. “Really, you can hear that? Did you hear that loud sound this morning?”

Tablo shook his head before little Haru came running into the room. Jiyong’s heart clenched at the sight of her, asking for her _oppas_. He missed her much more than he cared to admit.

“Bae-ah!” Jiyong tried to get Youngbae’s attention. “Come here! Haru wants to talk to you!”

Jiyong couldn’t keep himself from smiling as he heard the sound of the running water suddenly shut off. Youngbae emerged, barely dried and completely naked, searching through boxes for some clothes. Jiyong laughed as Youngbae finally found something decent to put on and he all but jumped into the bed next to Jiyong. He practically snatched the laptop away from Jiyong’s hands.

“Haru-ah!” Youngbae greeted the little girl, eyes shining with an unconditional kind of love.

Haru’s eyes teared up. “Youngbae-oppa, where are you?”

“I’m in my new house, sweetheart. You’ll come to visit soon. It’s really nice, you’ll like it.”

“Hi, Youngbae,” Tablo said.

“Hey, hyung. How’s it going?" Youngbae asked but didn't let Tablo respond. "Haru-ah, have you been practicing the song I taught you?”

Tablo snorted and Jiyong grinned. When Haru was around, there was really only one person in Youngbae’s world. Youngbae’s love for Haru had never made Jiyong jealous, though it wouldn’t have been entirely unreasonable as the other man had a tendency to ignore anything and everything that wasn’t Haru if she was nearby.

“Yes,” Haru answered, but there was something in her eyes, a glint of confusion, something close to fear. “ _Oppa_ , why is it so dark?”

“Even though it’s morning for you, where I am, it’s still night time.”

Little Haru shook her head. She looked like she was going to burst into tears at any moment. “No, _Oppa_. Why are you in the darkness?”

Youngbae’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean, Haru?”

Just then, Tablo’s wife, Hye Jung, came into the room. She gave a polite greeting to her brothers-in-law and informed them all that she had to take Haru to school. She apologized for the trouble.

After a long conversation with Tablo about everything he loved about the new house and his new job, Youngbae bid him farewell and closed the laptop.

Jiyong laid in bed, uncharacteristically quiet as Haru’s strange questions repeated in his mind. It made his hair stand on end and he felt oddly unnerved by the exchange. Even as Youngbae wrapped his muscular arms around Jiyong and bid him goodnight with a small kiss, Jiyong still felt it.

Except he wasn’t sure what _it_ was.

He just felt...unsettled.

Haru’s little voice, serious and concerned, echoed in his mind as he drifted off to sleep.

_Why are you in the darkness?_

* * *

  
  


Youngbae loved a lot of things about his husband, but the thing he loved most about his life partner was how easily the two of them would dissolve into laughter.

Sometimes, they laughed uncontrollably at the silliest things; they shared a sense of humor that not all people could relate to, or even understand. Jiyong had a wondrous ability to make Youngbae feel all giddy, like a goofy teenager. Youngbae never forgot the relationship advice Tablo-hyung had given him, once.

_Marry the one who makes you laugh the most, so you’ll never have a dull moment._

Youngbae had, and so far, it was perfect.

“I can’t believe you did that, Bae-ah!”

Youngbae wiped tears from his eyes as he drove through the night towards their home. Jiyong and Youngbae had just left the Henderson’s, the older couple that Youngbae had charmed the first time they had gone to the grocery store.

The dinner had been all well and good except that Youngbae, for some reason, could not keep his hands off of Jiyong. What began as a gentle hand on the knee quickly turned more and more inappropriate until Jiyong excused himself to go to the bathroom and Youngbae found some flimsy excuse to go ‘help’ him. In the Henderson’s guest bathroom, they made out and contained their giggles until Youngbae had tried to lower himself to his knees and Jiyong had made a very wise decision.

“You cannot blow me here,” Jiyong had said, breathless and beyond aroused. “Let’s go home now.”

They practically ran out of the Henderson’s house.

“I didn’t do anything, Ji,” Youngbae said teasingly.

“You basically gave me a handjob at their dinner table.”

Youngbae burst into laughter again and Jiyong couldn’t help but join.

“It’s not funny!” Jiyong insisted, despite himself. “Do you know how awkward it is to hide a boner from a sixty-year-old woman?”

“I think the real awkward moment was when Mr. Henderson asked us if South Korea was 'the good one'.”

Jiying giggled. “Oh my god, I know! I almost died. We can’t go over there anymore, by the way. I’m not facing Mrs. Henderson after I almost came all over her bathroom towels.”

Youngbae chuckled. “It was fun, though, right?”

Jiyong smiled, his wild laughter tapered off a bit. “'Fun' might not be the right word. Maybe 'mortifying'. I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just so...I don’t know. It’s like you can’t get enough of me.”

Youngbae reached over with the hand that wasn’t on the steering wheel and stroked Jiyong through his denim. “It’s ‘cause I can’t, babe.”

“Yeah but…”Jiyong trailed off, eyes rolling back, once again turned useless by Youngbae’s hands. “It’s just so much _more_ now.”

“Maybe I was holding back until we were properly married. I _am_ a gentleman, you know.”

Jiyong laughed. “A gentleman does not do the kind of things you did to me in the bathroom of the club the first night we met.”

Youngbae grinned as he pulled the car over on the side of the road, unable to control himself once again. The position was awkward, but he was so turned on that the uncomfortable way his seatbelt dug into his side didn’t even phase him.

“Jiyong,” he began, face leaning closer to his husband’s, nose rubbing against the thinner man’s soft cheek. “I love you and I want you. Right now. Will you let me?”

Jiyong laughed, sparkling and beautiful, and kissed Youngbae.

“I love you and I want you, too. But I swear to God, I will never forgive you if we get arrested for public indecency on the side of the road, so let’s go home first.”

Youngbae smirked triumphantly. “Your wish is my command.”

Youngbae sped down the dark road and counted his lucky stars. He thanked every heartbreak and every disappointment that led him to that fateful night at the bar and Jiyong’s loving arms.

To Youngbae, Jiyong was an incredible man. He had loved him for seven years, yet every day was a new adventure. He didn’t think he could ever get tired of Jiyong’s gummy smile, his thin fingers, his ever-changing hair.

And when Jiyong’s outer beauty inevitably ever faded, Youngbae had his raucous laughter, blinding genius, and sentimental heart to keep him occupied.

Jiyong was beautiful because he was flawed and imperfect.

As was Youngbae.

He felt like they were made for each other.

They didn’t make it to their bedroom that night. In fact, they didn’t even make it inside the house. They exchange quick blow jobs on their front porch and hoped that no one was watching.

Youngbae couldn’t shake off the feeling that someone or _something_ was.

He kind of liked it.

* * *

  
  


6 o'clock in the afternoon meant that Youngbae was almost home.

If he didn’t hit too much traffic and he drove just five miles over the speed limit, it meant he was exactly fifteen minutes away from Jiyong and their lovely, perfect house.

Lately, all Youngbae wanted to do was get home and see Jiyong. He loved his new job, even though he found it quite challenging to navigate the language barrier at times. He was learning so much, every day, and he was lucky enough to work in a rather open-minded office where his coworkers asked about his husband without sneers on their faces.

Still, though, when he wasn’t busy on a project, Youngbae found his thoughts drifting to Jiyong and the soft nape of his neck, the graceful curve of his hips, his captivating, feline-like eyes. It was like they had just met all over again, and Youngbae couldn’t believe that someone like Jiyong even existed let alone was interested in him.

Maybe they were still in the honeymoon phase.

The wedding had only been a few months ago. Maybe the fire and attraction would fade, bit by bit, day by day, until Youngbae didn’t feel so overwhelmed anymore.

Whatever the case, right now, Youngbae was pulling into their driveway and thinking of the inappropriate things he wanted to do with Jiyong.

The house was unusually quiet. Youngbae noticed immediately because normally, the smell of delicious food and the clatter of pots and pans inundated his senses when he walked in. Today, there was only a stillness, broken only by a soft, suspicious sound. Youngbae followed it.

He found Jiyong in the dining room, resting his head on his arms, which were folded across the table. The sound was Jiyong’s sobs. When he looked up, his eyes were shimmering with fresh tears and Youngbae’s heart clenched painfully in his chest.

“Jiyong, what’s wrong?”

That’s when he spotted an opened envelope clutched in Jiyong’s hand. The return address was the adoption agency they’d submitted an application to.

“What does it say?”

Youngbae wasn’t so sure he actually wanted to know. He walked closer to Jiyong slowly, as if wading through a dense fog.

The way Jiyong smiled eased Youngbae’s nerves.

“They’ve accepted our application. They’re looking at potential matches now.”

Youngbae felt like all the air had just been sucked out of the room and he had to hold on to the back of the nearest chair to maintain his balance because he might just keel over at any moment.

“They accepted it?” Youngbae asked, still unable to comprehend fully.

Jiyong wiped at his eyes. “We’re going to be dads, Youngbae.”

He rose from the table and wrapped his arms around Youngbae, who slowly came out of his daze. Jiyong was so close to him that Youngbae could feel Jiyong’s heart hammering in his chest and he was sure his own heart was beating in tune.

Laughter bubbled up in Youngbae’s belly and he began chuckling. “Why are you crying, babe? This is a good thing. This is _such_ a good thing. Oh my god, it’s really happening.”

Jiyong laughed, too, through the tears still flowing freely down his smooth face. “I know it’s a good thing! It’s just - ”

He teasingly pushed against Youngbae's chest when he noticed his mirthful smirk. “You know I cry when I’m really happy, Bae-ah. Don’t make fun of me.”

Youngbae’s body finally began to cooperate with him and he brought Jiyong into his embrace. “I’m not making fun. I’m just so, so…”

Jiyong held a finger to his mouth to shush him. “Listen, I have to say this now, or I’ll start crying again, or you’ll kiss me and I’ll forget to tell you and it’s really important.”

Youngbae nodded, Jiyong’s finger still on his lips.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day. And I just want you to know that...well - this might sound stupid but everything I know about being a good person, I learned from you. And I can’t wait to raise a child with you. I can’t wait to watch you be a father.”

A bright smile split Youngbae’s face as a sweet fluttering in his stomach made him duck his head shyly. “Babe, you don’t have to say things like that.”

“I know,” Jiyong said, holding Youngbae’s face in his hands, staring deeply into his eyes. “But I feel like I don’t tell you enough how much I love you and how proud I am of you. How much you’ve changed me for the better.”

“Well, you make me better, too.”

Jiyong let out a long sigh as he let his head rest on Youngbae’s shoulder.

“I can’t believe we’re going to have a little baby soon.”

Youngbae placed soft kisses on the side of Jiyong’s face as he held his delicate body in his arms.

“You know,” Youngbae began, a teasing lilt to his tone. “That means that soon, we’re not going to be able to do whatever we want, wherever we want, as many times as we want to...”

Youngbae half-expected Jiyong to take it as the good-natured joke it was and roll his eyes at him. Instead, his head snapped up suddenly, a dangerous little smirk on his face.

“Race you to the bedroom,” Jiyong said before he tore himself out of Youngbae’s arms and took off running.

Youngbae laughed as he ran after Jiyong.

The future lay bright ahead, shining and promising.

Later on, they’d both come to recognize this day, and this moment, as the harbinger of ruin.


	3. Part III: The Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: This chapter contains a depiction of a rape.

In the ensuing weeks, the change in Youngbae was subtle, but Jiyong, being an expert in all things Youngbae, recognized it right away.

He wanted to fuck.

He wanted to fuck _all_ the time.

In the mornings, before Youngbae went off to work he’d gently wake Jiyong up with deep kisses and wandering hands and he wouldn’t stop until he had Jiyong squirming beneath him. Then, the first thing Youngbae did when he got home from work was bend Jiyong over any flat surface and ravish him.

Even in the night, after having Jiyong at his command twice that day, he still wanted more. He still begged and teased Jiyong into sucking him off.

Youngbae had always been amazing in bed - sweet and attentive, willing to try new things. But since the move to the house, Youngbae was...rougher. There was a hard edge underneath every kiss, every touch.

Honestly, Jiyong found Youngbae’s sudden aggressiveness extremely sexy.

At least, in the beginning.

The way Youngbae would react so strongly to the simplest things made him feel irresistible and confident. Like Jiyong wearing one of his white, button-down dress shirts to bed.

“Holy shit, babe,” Youngbae groaned, immediately crawling on top of Jiyong to roll their hips together and connect their lips in a passionate kiss. “You look _so_ damn good in my clothes.”

Jiyong had to admit, he even liked the new dominant role Youngbae was taking in their sex life. It’s not that Jiyong was ever dissatisfied with Youngbae’s former soft and caring nature when it came to the act, it’s just that there was something so erotic about the way Youngbae seemed to be losing all control.

“You can’t be serious,” Jiyong chided, clicking his tongue in an attempt to hide his arousal. Youngbae seemed to see right through him though, and he grinned devilishly as he continued his ministrations.

Jiyong rolled his eyes in both annoyance and pleasure. Youngbae was just too damn good with his hands. “Is this what you were like as a teenager? Were you this horny all the time?”

“Were you this sexy all the time?” Youngbae shot back, fingers tangled in Jiyong’s shirt as he unbuttoned it.

“I bet you were,” he said when he finally finished undoing all the buttons and he could see all of Jiyong’s creamy chest, fingers tracing the pattern of his tattoos. Youngbae ran his hands over the exposed skin, making Jiyong shiver at the touch of his hands - strong and almost too brusque.

“I bet you had all the boys chasing after you, begging to kiss you, begging to fuck you. I bet you were such a tease.”

Jiyong gasped as Youngbae’s plush lips settled on the sensitive skin of his nipple, sucking and licking it in a way that was most definitely unfair. There was no way Jiyong could refuse him when he did _that_.

“Bae-ah, aren’t you tired?”

“Yeah, but you’re just such a babe.”

Jiyong flushed as he writhed in the bed, trembling under Youngbae’s mouth and hands. He arched his back, giving Youngbae more access to his body as his mind raced to keep up with what was happening.

Youngbae bit his nipple playfully and Jiyong yelped. “Yah! That hurt!”

“ _Mianhae_ , let me make it up to you.”

He raised himself up off the bed and pulled Jiyong’s arms until he rose up, too. He directed Jiyong to get on his knees and Jiyong chuckled. The old Youngbae would have spent almost an hour with foreplay. Recently, though, he had become impatient as well.

Jiyong readied himself for another quick and dirty fuck before bed and he closed his eyes tight. He was not expecting to feel the wet warmth of Youngbae’s tongue at his entrance. He felt a shiver travel down his spine and he curled his toes against the bedspread, completely enraptured.

“Oh, Bae-ah,” Jiyong moaned between panting breaths. “You haven’t done that in so long.”

“I know,” Youngbae responded, his breath blowing against the most intimate part of Jiyong.

It wasn’t long before Jiyong could no longer stand the pleasurable agony and he wrapped his own hand around his cock to pump in tune with Youngbae’s tongue. He came with Youngbae’s name on his lips.

There was a change in Youngbae. His eyes were almost feral when it came to sex and he initiated encounters constantly. But some things were still the same. He was still considerate; taking the time to perform an act that he’d never really enjoyed very much just to make Jiyong happy. He still wrapped Jiyong up in his arms and nuzzled against the back of his head after they finished.

Youngbae still whispered how beautiful Jiyong was, how much he loved him, how happy he made him.

And it still had the same effect on Jiyong. It still made his heart fill up with with a simple kind of joy. It still put a wide smile on his face.

So it was no wonder that Jiyong didn’t notice that they were hurtling closer and closer to a precipice. Jiyong’s love was so strong that it was blinding him.

* * *

"So, you two getting a divorce yet?"

A crooked smirk graced Seunghyun's face as he said it, and Jiyong laughed. After all, Seunghyun was his best friend it made Jiyong incredibly happy to see him, even if it was on a computer screen and even if he was still kind of a jerk.

"Very funny, Seunghyun. You know, maybe if you actually told Daesung how you feel, you'd be as happy as we are." Jiyong countered, referencing their other friend. 

"Please, Jiyong,” Seunghyun scoffed. “You know I'm not a one-man kind of guy. I have needs."

"Yeah, yeah..." Jiyong scoffed.

Seunghyun grinned in return. "Okay, seriously now. How are you? Have you gotten over the culture shock yet?"

Jiyong bristled, a bit uncomfortable. "Actually, I haven't really gone out much. I'm trying to work on a new story."

The truth was that Jiyong - for all his bravado - felt quite odd leaving the house. There was something about the constant sound of a foreign language that set him on edge and he had the nagging feeling that he just couldn't leave the house. Like it didn't want him to.

"What have you got so far?" Seunghyun asked.

"About thirty pages of nothing," Jiyong said, sighing and leaning back in his desk chair.

"Damn. Well, what about Mr. Perfect? He's not enough inspiration?"

Seunghyun posed it as a joke but Jiyong knew that he'd always been a bit jealous of Youngbae for being the only one who could tame Jiyong’s wild ways. When Youngbae came into Jiyong’s life, he had inadvertently taken away Seunghyun’s wingman and occasional fuck buddy.

"Actually, he's doing great. He loves his job and the house. And he's..."

Jiyong trailed off and Seunghyun picked up on his hesitation. "What? Tell me."

"I don't think you really want to hear about our sex life."

"Are you kidding me?" Seunghyun exclaimed. "I've been bugging you to hear about it for years!"

Jiyong laughed. "I don't know, Seunghyun..."

"Is he suddenly showing you that he's into kinky shit? I told you a former choir boy turned fag _had_ to have some skeletons in his closet."

"You are so crude, I can't believe I ever dated you."

"How weird is it?” Seunghyun continued, a grin set firmly on his face. “Is it like kinda sexy, call-me-daddy weird or super fucked-up, pretend-I'm-dead kind of weird?"

Jiyong let his head fall on the table. He tried - and failed - not to think about how damn turned on he'd been the last time Youngbae had tugged off his belt and threatened to spank him for being such a naughty boy. Jiyong had groaned out “I'm sorry, daddy" several times that night.

He could never, _ever_ say that to Seunghyun, because he’d hold it over his head forever. They used to talk about sex all the time, but once Youngbae came into the picture, Jiyong started feeling rather uncomfortable divulging details to Seunghyun. Besides, Seunghyun would never understand. He’d never understand that a Friday night spent with Youngbae doing nothing but cuddling and watching bad reality television shows was still ten times better than the wildest sex Jiyong had ever had.

It was hard to explain love to someone who despised the notion of monogamy so adamantly.

“Jiyong, come on. I’m literally on the other side of the planet. I won’t be able to tease him about it even if I wanted to.”

Maybe Jiyong _could_ tell Seunghyun, just this once.

“He’s...it’s just...he wants to have sex all the time.”

Seunghyun blinked. “That’s it? Really, Ji?”

“No, like, he’s obsessed with it. It’s kind of starting to take its toll.”

“What do you mean?”

Jiyong sighed. “We used to trade positions a lot, but now...Well, he’s always on top. And he’s kind of...less patient. More aggressive, I guess.”

A flash of worry crossed Seunghyun’s face. “Is he hurting you?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Jiyong stammered, even though his last time with Youngbae had been just this side of rough and he’d been close to asking him to stop.

“Are you lying to me? Because if he’s hurting you, I’ll get on a plane right now and - ”

“He’s not hurting me, Seunghyun. He’s my husband. He could never hurt me.”

Though touched by Seunghyun’s protective nature, Jiyong felt a fierce need to defend Youngbae. He was the love of Jiyong's life and he’d always been nothing but gentle and kind. Besides, Jiyong knew all he had to do was tell Youngbae he needed a break. He would understand. The man was practically a saint.

“Listen, I gotta go. But it was nice talking to you. And tell Daesung you like him, for god’s sake. You’re getting too old for the I-don’t-care-about-anyone-or-anything act.”

“Fuck you,” Seunghyun grinned. “Talk to you soon, Ji.”

“Bye.”

Jiyong stared at the blank page, still opened on his computer screen. The rumble of Seunghyun’s deep voice had provided a brief respite from the silence of the house. Jiyong sighed, trying to push the anxiety bubbling in his thoughts away. It was true enough that Jiyong loved the idea of the house and he adored how much Youngbae loved their new home. He busied himself imagining if their child would feel safe and what room of the house they should turn into the child’s bedroom. But there was always an underlying strangeness in the house, especially every time Youngbae left.

The stillness of the house was almost unbearable.

* * *

Youngbae wrapped his arms around Jiyong and pulled him away from his desk chair as soon as he arrived home later that day.

“Did you get any work done today?” he asked, a hard kiss between each word.

He’d just gotten home and Jiyong knew exactly where this was going. 

“I got some things done, I’m just - ”

Youngbae was already taking off his shirt and unbuckling his pants and Jiyong was too sore and too damn tired of this. He was exhausted. He’d had a long day of writing and then erasing everything he wrote, of feeling so uneasy in the house alone he had to go to their yard and start cleaning up the area. He really wanted to just relax and go to sleep early.

“Bae-ah,” Jiyong cried, unable to keep how annoyed he was out of his voice.

“Do you want me to stop?” Youngbae asked, head suddenly snapping up.

There was something in Youngbae’s eyes, a kind of panic that made Jiyong’s heart soften. He looked terrified that Jiyong would say yes.

“It’s just - I’m just…” Jiyong stumbled over his words. He couldn’t think of a nice way to tell Youngbae that he needed a break. There was just something in his demeanor that made Jiyong uncomfortable - like he needed to tread lightly.

“Babe,” Youngbae said, voice soft, lips brushing against Jiyong’s now bare shoulder. “I need you.”

Jiyong couldn’t resist. Most of the time, he felt like he was the one holding on to Youngbae for dear life, but when Youngbae would turn around and confess that he felt the same way, Jiyong just couldn’t believe it.

He didn’t believe in God - not like Youngbae did anyhow - but he couldn’t help but feel like some higher power, some benevolent force, had sent him salvation in the form of his loving husband.

So he let Youngbae fuck him, even though he was tired and sore and it hurt like hell.

Jiyong let Youngbae fuck him and he didn’t know the dangerous pattern he was establishing. He didn’t realize that the more he gave, the more Youngbae took.

* * *

It was 3 o'clock in the morning when Youngbae woke up. He awoke with such a violent start that Jiyong woke up, too.

“Do you hear that?” Youngbae’s voice was a harsh whisper in the darkness of their room.

“Hear what?” Jiyong asked, adrenaline suddenly inundating his senses as he strained to listen. All Jiyong could hear was Youngbae’s hard panting breaths and an overwhelming silence.

“You don’t hear that?” Youngbae asked, panic evident in his tone.

Jiyong strained to hear again, despite already knowing the outcome. This was the third night in a row that Youngbae had awoken from some nightmare and had been unable to realize that the dream was over.

“Honey, I think you were just dreaming again,” Jiyong soothed, bringing Youngbae’s head onto his own chest. “Just calm down.”

“I can’t believe you don’t hear it.” Youngbae blinked rapidly, breathing still panicked and quick.

“Calm down. Let's go back to sleep - ”

Youngbae rose of the bed suddenly.

“Stop telling me to calm down, Jiyong,” Youngbae snapped, leaving Jiyong in the bedroom. In the darkness.

Jiyong laid in the bed, shocked. His blood pumped loudly in his own ears and his fingers twitched nervously. Youngbae almost never snapped at him and the few times that he had lost his temper, he had immediately apologized.

Jiyong could hear Youngbae stomping around the house, obviously searching for the origin of a sound that didn’t exist. Lately, Youngbae hadn’t gotten much sleep and it was obviously taking a toll on the usually calm and patient man. His stomps got louder and louder and Jiyong was suddenly furious at how passive-aggressive his husband was being. Just because he couldn’t sleep didn’t mean that Jiyong had to suffer as well. Youngbae was being terribly childish.

Jiyong got up, prepared to give Youngbae a piece of his mind. He followed the clamor of Youngbae’s footsteps. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, the stomping suddenly stopped, as if it had never been there in the first place.

Jiyong frowned, wondering why the hell Youngbae hadn’t turned on any of the lights on the first floor. Why was he stumbling around in the dark?

When Jiyong rounded the corner and entered the main corridor, his heart stopped. Youngbae was on the ground directly in front of the door that led to the basement.

Jiyong ran to him, shook the other man’s shoulders while imagining the worst. When Youngbae’s eyes fluttered open, Jiyong’s heart began to beat again.

“Oh my god, what happened?” Jiyong asked, the worry and anxiety evident in his voice.

Youngbae frowned, eyes unfocused. “Why aren’t we in our bedroom?”

“Don’t you remember? You woke up from a nightmare again. You kept saying that you heard all these sounds.”

Youngbae shook his head, mouth hung open. He struggled to speak. “I don’t - no, that didn’t... _again_?”

“Yes, again." Jiyong blanched. "You keep doing this. You really don't remember?”

Youngbae just closed his eyes and let out a trembling breath. “No. I'm sorry.”

Jiyong held on to him tighter. He felt, irrationally, like he was losing Youngbae. Or maybe more like someone was trying to take him away.

“Let’s go back to bed, okay?” 

Youngbae could only nod and let Jiyong help him up the stairs. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, but Jiyong was wide awake for the rest of the night, mind racing with the strange things that were happening to his beloved. He wondered if he was strong enough to keep Youngbae safe. He promised himself that he’d die before he let anything happen to his precious Youngbae.

* * *

Over the next month, the happiness that had made their lives brilliant and calm quickly deteriorated.

Youngbae woke up at odd hours of the night, complaining about hearing things. When he wasn’t in a foul mood and snapping at Jiyong needlessly, he was coaxing the other man into quick and dirty fucks that didn’t even feel like they were making love anymore.

Youngbae didn’t sleep. The sounds - the voices - didn’t let him. He shuffled around the house all night and made Jiyong feel desperate.

Jiyong didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what was happening to Youngbae, and worse, he didn’t know what was happening to himself. Jiyong had always prided himself in his take-no-bullshit approach to life, yet here he was, becoming nothing but a doormat to his domineering husband.

And what had happened to the sweet, expressive, gentle man that he had adored for so many years? The one he'd promised the rest of his life to?

Youngbae stopped talking about their future child. He stopped planning for the child's bedroom and making lists of cute names. He stopped caring.

Jiyong was hanging on by a thread, hoping against hope that Youngbae would snap out of his peculiar behavior and turn back into the wonderful man Jiyong knew him to be.

He knew it was over when Youngbae stopped singing in the shower. It was the same day Jiyong started seeing the shadows.

Explaining the shadows to Youngbae was difficult. It was hard because Youngbae had no patience anymore and he dismissed Jiyong’s worries with a flippant wave of his hand. It made Jiyong feel so small.

It was also hard because Jiyong never quite saw the shadows, per se. They lingered in his periphery and sometimes, Jiyong would go for days without thinking of them at all - like the whole thing was a distant dream. It had to be all in his head.

Jiyong felt so alone. He hadn’t made any American friends besides the Hendersons and he couldn’t bring himself to try and tell Seunghyun or his family about what was happening to Youngbae. He thought they would blame him - hate him, even. Youngbae was there, though - Jiyong knew that the sweet man he’d devoted himself to was just buried underneath his new uncaring nature. Jiyong reasoned with himself that the change in Youngbae was just an extreme reaction to culture shock and that the shadows he thought he saw just meant he needed to get his eyes checked.

He didn’t tell anyone.

He pretended that everything was fine, even though his discomfort in the house became more and more prevalent. Even though Youngbae’s anger seemed to grow, like it was a living, breathing thing. 

Jiyong lied and pretended and smiled. He tried to convince himself that if he just ignored the obvious for long enough, it just wouldn’t be true.

He was losing Youngbae, to some unseen force, perhaps to the early stages of a mental disorder.

Jiyong was too proud and too afraid to ask for help.

Even though everything was falling apart.

* * *

“Why don’t we go out tonight?”

It was Jiyong's desperate attempt to keep Youngbae’s hands off of him and to break up the terrible pattern that was becoming their night life.

The question hung in the air for a tense few moments before Youngbae sighed and let his hands drop from Jiyong’s waist.

“Fine,” he snapped, but he made his way upstairs to change into decent clothes and Jiyong felt like he’d won a small battle.

The night club’s music thumped loudly, in harsh contrast to the uneasy stillness of Youngbae and Jiyong’s home. It was packed with beautiful boys pressed up close on the dance floor and the scene brought back memories of the first night the two had met.

On that night, Jiyong had walked into the club in Seoul, confident and determined, with Seunghyun at his side. He’d seen Youngbae sitting alone at the bar the second he’d walked in and it really had been just like the movies - time slowed down and every other person disappeared from Jiyong’s vision and mind. He had been drawn to Youngbae’s brooding, like a small moth to its inevitable end in a deadly flame. Jiyong had debated with himself for a long time before approaching Youngbae. He had felt, even before he’d even said a word to him, that Youngbae was going to change his life.

Jiyong hadn’t realized how tragically right he had been.

In the club, Youngbae loosened up for the first time in weeks. He smiled slightly as he held Jiyong in his arms, moving their bodies to the beat. He looked like his old self and Jiyong let himself let his guard down.

“I miss you,” he whispered, voice raw at Youngbae’s ear.

“What are you talking about?” Youngbae frowned.

Jiyong didn’t answer. Just brought his arms around Youngbae’s shoulders and held on to him. He hadn’t held Youngbae in what felt like an eternity. Their nights used to be filled with holding each other close and breathing in each other’s scents, but the change in Youngbae had ended that. Youngbae left the bed often to search for imaginary sounds or to simply try to walk off his sleeplessness. He left Jiyong alone with the shadows.

Jiyong tried to keep from crying in such a public venue but his heart was so overwhelmed with all the disappointment of the past few weeks. He sucked in a trembling breath.

“I just - everything’s so - ”

“I know,” Youngbae interrupted. “I know. I don’t want to be like this to you, but I don’t know how to stop it. I’m trying, babe. ”

Jiyong pulled his head back to look into Youngbae’s eyes. This was the first time that Youngbae had admitted that something was wrong, that the tension of the past few weeks had not been in Jiyong’s imagination. It was also the first time in a long time that Youngbae had spoken to him with sweetness and honesty in his voice. Jiyong felt like it was easier to breathe now, even as they were pushed together and jostled about by the mass of dancers on the dancefloor.

Jiyong smiled. “Let’s just focus on tonight, okay?”

“Okay,” Youngbae smiled, too - one of his former bright smiles and Jiyong felt like he’d finally broken through to his husband.

“I’m going to get us some drinks,” Youngbae said, fingers rubbing against Jiyong’s hipbones in the soothing manner the other man adored. “I’ll be right back.”

Jiyong smiled as he swayed to the music softly and waited for Youngbae’s return. It was finally over, whatever it had been, and now his love was back.

“Excuse me, would you like to dance?” a voice asked.

The boy had messy black hair and deep eyes. The boy was exactly Jiyong’s type, before Youngbae.

“I’m sorry, I’m waiting for my husband.”

The boy smiled. “I’m not asking you to get a divorce, I’m just asking for a dance.”

Jiyong grinned at the boy’s persistence. He was so caught up in the swell of his relief and he didn’t think that he had to still tread so carefully around Youngbae. Besides, the couple had danced with other men before. Their nightlife in Seoul had been filled with underground gay clubs and Youngbae never batted an eyelash at Jiyong and Seunghyun’s grinding the same way that Jiyong hadn’t minded when Daesung wrapped his arms around Youngbae’s waist. 

What could be the harm in a short dance? Jiyong was so high off the relief he felt that he nodded his agreement to the young man.

The sound of glass smashing and a hand gripping his forearm shocked Jiyong out of his daze. He tried to resist Youngbae, who was currently gripping his arm hard enough to bruise and dragging him through the club towards the entrance. When they were outside, Youngbae pushed Jiyong into the alleyway and let go.

“What the hell is your problem?” Jiyong yelped gracelessly as his back hit the brick wall.

“I can’t believe you!” Youngbae yelled, making a few passersby walk away from the alley. “You’re such a slut.”

The last words were whispered through clenched teeth; Youngbae’s face was marred by fury, his graceful features rendered hideous by his anger. Jiyong’s heart broke at Youngbae’s words and attitude. He felt a wave of crushing disappointment settle into his heart. Jiyong had truly believed that his problems with Youngbae were over, but it seemed he was sorely mistaken.

The Youngbae he had fallen in love with would never call him names, or embarrass him in front of strangers.

Jiyong’s own words echoed in his head. _He’s my husband. He would never hurt me_ , Jiyong had told Seunghyun, but the stinging pain in his left forearm proved otherwise.

“Who are you?” Jiyong’s voice cracked as his desperation caused tears to well up in his eyes. “What’s _happening_ to you?”

Youngbae stopped pacing the alleyway to shoot Jiyong a deadly glare. He drew his arm back, ready to strike and the half-second it took him to reach Jiyong was just enough time for the other man to imagine the worst.

Jiyong gasped involuntarily when Youngbae’s fist slammed into the wall, right next to his face.

When Jiyong opened his eyes a minute later, Youngbae’s back was to him. Neither man spoke a word.

They drove home in absolute silence, blood seeping slowly out of Youngbae’s hand. The dark liquid stained their car, Youngbae’s clothes and left a macabre trail up the balcony and into their perfect home.

Jiyong walked upstairs, mind in a shocked state of indifference. When he laid in their bed, he cried quietly to himself for hours before sleep overtook him.

Youngbae never came upstairs.

* * *

“Has Youngbae ever been...violent?”

Jiyong hadn’t even meant to ask. The words tumbled out of his mouth without his permission and the worried look on Tablo-hyung’s face spoke volumes.

“Why are you asking me that?” Tablo said, his eyes wide and his eyebrows knit together in worry. “Is something going on?”

Jiyong tried to keep his face placid, tried to fight back the tears forming in his eyes, but everything in his life was completely falling apart, and worse of all, Youngbae was gone.

His body was still there. His face still brooded all over the house, sending Jiyong curious or mean stares every so often, but his soul - the lovely, tender part of him that had once taught Jiyong how to be soft - was gone. It was as if another man was living in their home, simply wearing a convincing Youngbae costume.

It was horrible. Like living in a nightmare.

Two weeks had passed since Youngbae’s jealousy-driven violent outburst and the two had barely spoken two sentences to each other. Youngbae still didn’t sleep. He paced around the house at all hours of the night. Jiyong had taken to locking their bedroom door at night, even though every time he did so, the shadows loomed closer in his failing eyesight.

He wanted to protect himself. From his own husband.

It was sickening.

Tablo finally sensed the depression in Jiyong. “Jiyong, tell me the truth: is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Jiyong said, wiping errant tears from his eyes. “Everything’s just perfect.”

He still couldn’t bring himself to admit the truth, but his assurances were hollow, his tone bitter instead of truthful. 

“You know, Jiyong, he’s my like little brother but you are, too, now," Tablo said softly but firmly. "If he’s doing anything wrong, you know I have your back, right?”

The sudden slam of the front door alerted Jiyong to Youngbae’s presence.

“Yes, _hyung_ , I know. I have to go now, but I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Jiyong, wait - ”

Jiyong shut the computer a second before Youngbae walked into the living room. His work attire was oddly askew and the dark bags under his eyes made him look ill.

They stared at each other for a beat, Youngbae shifting uncomfortably in the doorway and Jiyong sitting stock-still on the couch.

“I’m sorry,” Youngbae said so quietly that Jiyong had to strain to hear him. “About what happened the other night.”

Jiyong opened his lips, ready to accept the apology, but no sound emerged. He snapped his mouth shut. He wasn’t ready for forgiveness. At least not yet.

He nodded, though, to give Youngbae some sense of accomplishment. Youngbae immediately took the opening, walking towards Jiyong with desperation underlying his movements. When his hand - the same one with the torn knuckles - grazed Jiyong’s shoulder, the thin man flinched. Youngbae withdrew his hand quickly as if burned by fire.

They hadn’t touched each other since the terrible night.

Youngbae stared at Jiyong, broken-hearted at his husband’s reaction to his touch and needy for his attention and love, but Jiyong wouldn’t budge. He finally looked down at his lap, breaking their eye contact.

Youngbae sighed before finally giving up, too, and shuffling upstairs.

Jiyong thought that his life couldn’t get any worse.

* * *

  
  


Jiyong was in the nightclub in Seoul again.

Except that he wasn’t. Not really.

This was just a dream - nothing more than his brain’s manifestation of his preoccupation with the way his and Youngbae’s relationship was crumbling in his hands.

Back to the beginning.

Maybe Jiyong would make a different choice.

“There’s no one worth our time here tonight,” Jiyong remembered that Seunghyun had scoffed, but his voice now sounded garbled and distant and he couldn’t spot the tall man no matter how much he looked around.

And when he saw Youngbae, he wasn’t sitting at the bar, as he had been in real life. He was standing alone, by a door that was so familiar but Jiyong couldn’t place where he knew it from. Youngbae’s eyes were dark and intense, just like the moonless night, just like the shadows that now swirled around him, wisps of dark smoke twirling itself around his leg and middle.

The smoke trailed out of the door, like a snake.

“Youngbae!”

Jiyong tried to run towards his husband, but his legs wouldn’t move.

The evil look on Youngbae’s face drained and he began to shout, arms reaching out to Jiyong wildly as the club itself seem to stretch out, each second taking them further and further apart.

No sound emerged from Youngbae’s mouth, but Jiyong knew that he was calling out for help, begging his darling to save him, but Jiyong couldn’t move. He could only stand and watch the shadows devour Youngbae.

“Jiyong.”

He couldn’t do anything. Helpless, useless, worthless human couldn’t save the only person in the world that knew his heart, that loved his flaws...

“Jiyong, wake up, please.”

No.

It was worse. Jiyong now realized that he _could_ move his legs. He just didn’t want to.

“Jiyong, please!”

Jiyong’s eyes snapped open to find the real Youngbae, eyes bright and sweat dripping from his hairline, hovering over him in their bed.

He didn’t have time to wonder how Youngbae had gotten past the locked door, the sinister nature of his dream still loomed in his mind and the desperation in Youngbae’s eyes made Jiyong feel suddenly protective of his love.

“What’s wrong?” he spoke tenderly, trying to will his own heart rate to slow down enough to let him think.

“I need you,” Youngbae moaned, trembling and feverish as he rubbed himself unceremoniously against Jiyong’s thigh. “Please, please let me.”

Jiyong frowned, still confused and hazy from his nightmare. Youngbae nipped at the skin of his collarbone, breath shaking as he let out another pained sounding groan.

“Please let me,” he repeated, and when it dawned on Jiyong what he was referring to, he fought the urge to push him away.

In the dream, he had abandoned Youngbae to fight for himself. Jiyong promised to not do that in real life.

“Okay,” he agreed, and as soon as the words left his lips Youngbae was ripping off his clothes and attacking Jiyong’s mouth with his own.

His hands were rough, his fingers clenched and bruised and Jiyong closed his eyes and tried to remember how Youngbae had once touched him so softly that it had felt like the summer wind.

Youngbae grunted, uncharacteristically loud and unrefined, already slicking himself up with lube before he’d even prepared Jiyong and when he pushed in swiftly, Jiyong felt like he was being split open. It hurt so much that Jiyong winced, fingers gripping the sheets.

Youngbae let out a harsh sound as he tried not to move and Jiyong was grateful for the chance to get accustomed to the intrusion. He couldn’t help but be scared of the way Youngbae seemed more distraught and wild than he’d ever seen him.

Jiyong wasn’t even hard.

“Baby,” Youngbae whispered, as his mouth hovered by Jiyong’s ear and his muscles flexed with tension.

Honey smooth. Honey sweet.

Jiyong opened his eyes to find that the shadows in his eyesight had retreated and Youngbae’s face held a gentle smile that he hadn’t seen in what felt like ages.

“I’ll never let anything hurt you,” Youngbae cooed, his desperate pace now slowed down. He kissed Jiyong softly and deeply like they had all the time in the world.

Jiyong couldn’t help but kiss back. He felt like a man that had been dying of thirst and now that Youngbae was finally giving him the gentleness he craved, Jiyong felt himself harden as he lost himself in Youngbae’s tender lips.

They sighed. They sighed and rocked together slowly, their hip grinding instead of pumping and their faces were so close together that they were breathing the same air.

“Youngbae,” Jiyong couldn’t keep the surprised moan out of his voice and Youngbae responded by undulating his hips even harder, trapping Jiyong’s cock between their hard stomachs and leaning down to nip at the lobe of Jiyong’s ear.

Their hands found each other, fingers laced together tightly and Jiyong thought that if this was another dream, he never wanted to wake up.

“What’s happening to us?” Jiyong whispered, heartbeat racing as Youngbae’s face nuzzled into his neck lovingly.

Youngbae stopped. He leaned up suddenly, eyes boring into Jiyong. “Are you scared of me?”

Jiyong looked into the eyes of the man he loved more than life itself and did the only thing he could do.

He lied.

He lied because he thought that maybe if he did, he couldn’t keep this tender-hearted version of his love for just a little longer.

Maybe if he lied, the dream would last.

“No, honey,” Jiyong whispered. “I love you.”

And Youngbae smiled. Brilliantly and honestly - the kind of smile that made Jiyong’s stomach into a fluttering mess. The same smile he’d given him when they had first met at the club in Seoul. The smile that had sealed Jiyong’s fate as a man who would never be able to love anyone else. It was so contagious, Jiyong found himself smiling back as he traced the smile with gentle fingers all the way to Youngbae’s narrow eyes.

Without warning, Youngbae’s gaze shifted to a darkened spot in a corner of their bedroom. Jiyong followed his gaze, only to find a great surging shadow, almost humanoid in its shape. Entirely terrifying.

When Jiyong could tear his eyes away to look at Youngbae, the man he loved was gone. His eyes had gone dark and the beautiful smile had drained from his face, leaving a severe look on his features.

Youngbae’s hips suddenly started snapping, pace hard and unforgiving, into a helpless Jiyong.

It _burned_. His rough pace and the force of his thrusts were too much for an over-sensitive and unprepared Jiyong. The thin man cried out, arms braced against Youngbae’s chest in an attempt to shove the stronger man away.

“Stop it!” He cried out but Youngbae ignored him and pounded so hard into Jiyong that the bed shook and knocked against the wall.

“Please!” Jiyong screamed and begged, shadows inching their way closer and closer to the pair, covering the walls and the ceiling and Jiyong’s heart with darkness.

A particularly harsh thrust and Jiyong felt like he was being torn apart from the inside out. He screamed one last time, his voice shrill and beyond fearful at this terrible turn of events. “Youngbae, you’re hurting me! Stop it, please!”

Youngbae did. He looked down at Jiyong, shaking his head with a confused frown on his face. His eyes widened when he saw Jiyong’s state.

“Oh my god,” he said, pulling himself out slowly and carefully. “Oh my god, Jiyong are you okay?”

He reached out to touch Jiyong’s face but Jiyong slapped his hand away in fear. “Just get off me. Get away from me.”

It was then that Jiyong realized he was sobbing.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” Youngbae’s voice was panicked and guilt-ridden but Jiyong was inconsolable.

Tears streamed down his face, blood stained their bed and Jiyong realized once and for all that there was an unforgivable darkness living inside his beloved husband.

Youngbae left the bed, arms held up in a sign of surrender. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t remember - ”

“You hurt me!” Jiyong wailed. “Look what you did to me! How could you do this?”

“Jiyongie, I didn’t mean to. Please, baby, believe me,” Youngbae’s hands were still held up but his breathing was speeding up like he was having a panic attack. His eyes shone with unshed tears. “I didn’t mean to.”

Jiyong was too shocked and broken by what had just happened in the bed that used to be where they shared their most intimate and delicate moments. Now, it was stained by this incredibly vicious night.

“ _What_ didn’t you mean to do?” Jiyong screeched, his anger and his pounding broken heart making him lash out. “You didn’t mean to snap at me constantly for the last month? You didn’t mean to make me feel like sex was the only thing you wanted from me? You didn’t mean to almost hit me at the club? You didn’t mean to rape me?”

Youngbae sucked in a sharp breath, his hands coming up to cover his face. “Jesus Christ. Jiyong, I - I don’t even know what to say.”

Jiyong continued sobbing. Tears and blood continued to seep out of him and he felt like he was finally releasing all of his pent up frustration and sadness. Outside, the wind picked up. It howled and dragged leaves across the roof of the house, making Jiyong feel like his anger and disappointment was no longer just inside him. It had escaped into the real world, it would blow down the house, their love, their dreams - 

Jiyong took a deep shaking breath and let out another sorrowful wail. He had no more words left in him. He had nothing in his mind or in his heart. The only thing that repeated in his mind was that it was over.

They could never come back from this betrayal.

“Jiyong,” Youngbae’s voice was clear, full of a calm determination. He lowered his chin and stared into Jiyong’s eyes. “I love you more than life itself and it kills me that I did this to you. None of my excuses even matter. Just know that I am so, so sorry, for everything I’ve put you through.”

He bit his lip nervously before taking a deep breath and moving towards the opened bedroom door.

“I’ll never let anything or anyone hurt you again. Especially me.”

Jiyong could only watch as Youngbae quietly left the room.

He was the one who had been most hurt, yet a part of him still longed to reach out to the man he loved, to offer some sort of comfort and hope.

He didn’t. He let Youngbae leave.

* * *

The next day, Jiyong stayed in the bedroom, reliving the nightmare as the shadows inched closer and closer.

There was a chill in the air, Jiyong noted as he absentmindedly played with the edge of the fabric of the comforter. Somewhere along the way, the bright intense heat of summer had given way to the chilled breeze of autumn. Jiyong hadn’t even noticed. He’d been too caught up in Youngbae to notice how fast time was flying by them.

The next day, when Jiyong’s anger had dissipated and he found the courage to leave the bedroom, he searched for Youngbae everywhere, but he was gone. Their car was still in the driveway.

Jiyong stood in the living room, bare feet against the cold wood, arms wrapped around himself to ward off the chill. He frowned, cocking his head to the side as he looked for his husband.

Jiyong was prepared to offer an apology for his harsh words. He knew now, more than ever - after witnessing the shocked reaction Youngbae had had to the whole incident - that there was something sinister living inside his husband. Something inhuman and powerful.

It was that intense darkness that was hurting Jiyong, not his precious Youngbae. Jiyong had let his anger with him cloud his judgement. Like in the dream, he’d left Youngbae to drown in shadows. But no longer.

Jiyong was going to save his man.

He just had to find him first.


	4. Interlude

Jiyong sat at his desk, typing furiously and relentlessly for over an hour because the muse had struck again; an idea had made its way into his head at just the right time and he couldn’t let it pass him by.

He wrote and wrote and wrote and ignored all distractions - especially the text messages he kept receiving from Youngbae.

He didn’t want to, of course, but ignoring Youngbae was sometimes a necessary evil because Youngbae was the biggest distraction of them all.

They’d been in a serious relationship for almost seven years now, and still Youngbae had a way of making Jiyong feel light-headed and stupid. He had tripped over his own feet countless times, just because Youngbae had caught his gaze from across a crowded room and smiled at him in that way - the tender, secret way that Jiyong knew was only meant for him.

God, loving Youngbae had made Jiyong into such a hopeless sap.

He used to be the opposite.

Jiyong used to be jaded - cruel to his lovers and ever crueler to himself. He used to fuck them and leave them, spend the next day drinking himself into a stupor because he couldn’t find a way to let his guard down. He couldn’t find a way to care about someone.

Besides, how could he let someone fall in love with him when he knew what he was made of? Rough edges and sharp angles; a scathing attitude towards everything and everyone. Jiyong had not been a person who deserved love. Hell, he hadn’t even wanted it. Or so he told himself.

But then, the most remarkable thing had happened.

Love had found him.

In a crowded bar, on a random weeknight, he had uncharacteristically decided to step away from his computer (he had been on quite the writing streak that week) and accompany Seunghyun on a hunt for the perfect bedmate.

Jiyong had been fairly certain that it was going to end in meaningless sex between the two friends, anyway, since Seunghyun had been eyeing him all night and even though it would have been much simpler to just skip the nightclub routine, Jiyong had still obliged his friend.

“There’s no one worth our time here tonight,” Seunghyun had said, hand placed dangerously low on Jiyong’s back.

But Jiyong had already spotted a perfect stranger, dark and brooding, eyes intensely set on his drink instead of the hubbub that surrounded him. There was something about this man, something Jiyong couldn’t place. From his position by the door, Jiyong had only been able to see his profile, but there was something so different about his stooped shoulders and the way his breaths seemed like deep sighs.

“I don’t know,” Jiyong said, flashing Seunghyun a brilliant grin. “I think I may have found something.”

He hadn’t even given Seunghyun a chance to reply before walking towards his prey.

“You look pretty down for someone at a club,” Jiyong had started to flirt, but the rest of the words got caught in his throat because the man had looked up at him and _holy shit_ Jiyong had never in his life seen someone so gorgeous.

“Sorry,” the man had said, ducking his head shyly and giving a tight smile. “I’m not usually like this.”

Later on, Jiyong would come to know that this was the same day that Youngbae’s father had disowned him - screamed at him that having a dead son would have been better than having a gay one.

Still, even back then, Jiyong had been able to tell that this was no ordinary sadness. He took the empty seat next to the man.

“I’m Kwon Jiyong,” he had said.

“Youngbae,” the man had responded with a forlorn look in his eyes.

Jiyong had wanted nothing more than to make that look disappear. “Well, Youngbae, this is your lucky night.”

Youngbae’s thin smile widened. Jiyong’s heart ballooned to epic proportions. “Is that so?”

“I happen to be an expert in making people smile. Especially handsome ones like you.”

A soft blush spread across Youngbae’s cheek and Jiyong had thought that he wanted to spend the rest of his life watching the color rise in his cheeks like a soft sunrise. Then a laugh - a gorgeous, honest sound that made Youngbae’s eyes disappear into little crescents and _oh_ , that had been the moment that Jiyong had been lost.

“You think I’m handsome?” Youngbae chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. “That _is_ funny.”

“Low self-confidence is unbecoming, Youngbae-ah,” Jiyong had joked, feeling a pleasant tingling in his stomach from how familiar and comfortable talking to Youngbae seemed to be.

“I don’t have low self-confidence,” Youngbae had said. “It’s just that you’re really beautiful.”

“ _Yah_ ,” Jiyong had slapped Youngbae on the shoulder. He bit his lip, a bit anxiously because he had let his hand rest on Youngbae's shoulder and the other man hadn't shrugged it away.

“So,” Jiyong slipped back into hunting mode and lowered his voice a bit. “You think I’m beautiful and I think you’re handsome so why aren’t we back at my apartment already?”

“Don’t do that,” the smile had drained from Youngbae’s face and Jiyong had wanted to kick himself. “Don’t belittle this.”

Jiyong had sucked in a sharp breath, mind racing to find an adequate apology, but Youngbae spoke up again. “Besides, I don’t sleep with people I don’t know just for the hell of it.”

Jiyong would have usually had either a scornful response or a well-practiced pick-up line to Youngbae’s criticism, but he found that he really hadn’t wanted to lie to him. There had been something about his eyes, something about his face. Something that told Jiyong that this man would be able to see through his defenses and right into his melancholy heart.

So Jiyong had chosen to give up the ghost.

“I do,” Jiyong said. “And I hate it.”

Youngbae looked up sharply and Jiyong continued. “I sleep with people I don’t care about all the time because I hate sleeping alone. I’m mean to them - I make promises I can’t keep and I never think about them once I leave. I’m scared to fall in love but I want it more than anything in the world. I saw you when I first walked in and it’s taken me half an hour to come talk to you. I’ve already had four drinks because you make me nervous.”

“Why did you come over here?” Youngbae had asked, turning his body away from the bar and towards Jiyong. Giving him his undivided attention.

“Because I’ve never seen someone who looked as lost and unhappy as I feel.”

Youngbae smiled a bit, apparently touched by Jiyong’s honesty. “Why do I make you nervous?”

Jiyong blinked. “I don’t know…”

“Yes, you do,” Youngbae insisted, his body suddenly much closer to Jiyong’s. The other man could feel the heat from Youngbae’s body and it was making it hard to think straight.

“Tell me,” Youngbae whispered and Jiyong had wondered who was seducing who. “Tell me the truth.”

“By the end of the night, I know you’re going to be head over heels in love with me,” Jiyong spat out quickly, breaking into a sweat because Youngbae’s hand had found the small of his back and his face was just inches away from his own. “And I’m worried that I won’t be good enough for you.”

Youngbae’s hands had tightened incrementally against Jiyong. “Kwon Jiyong, you are more than good enough for me. I think that you are perfect for me.”

Jiyong’s eyes had fluttered closed as Youngbae had bravely connected their lips. The kiss had been velvet-smooth and surprisingly tender; the kind of kiss meant for a romantic confession atop a mountain, not a crowded, sultry bar. It made Jiyong’s head pleasantly fuzzy, especially since Youngbae let out these soft little moans that went straight to his heart. And maybe it had been Jiyong’s overactive imagination or maybe there had been something stronger in his drink but Jiyong felt like he was dissolving into Youngbae’s embrace.

Jiyong had known, somehow, that this was the one kiss he’d been waiting for his entire life: his last first kiss.

When Jiyong pulled his head back to catch his breath, Youngbae had sighed out the word ‘perfect’ and Jiyong had agreed.

“I’m supposed to be seducing you,” Jiyong muttered under his breath and it made Youngbae burst into laughter.

“You did,” Youngbae assuaged. “I’m all yours.”

And funny how Jiyong’s heart did a backflip at Youngbae’s innocent words. Jiyong strongly doubted that the other man had any idea what he was doing to him. Youngbae was taking apart his world, atom by atom. Giving everything a lovely rosy hue - the same color as his shyness.

“Do you want to know me?” Jiyong whispered because Youngbae’s face was still so close that he couldn’t look into his eyes.

“Yes,” Youngbae had responded before pecking a quick kiss to Jiyong’s lips. “Let’s go.”

The rest of the night had been almost magical. They had held hands without shame and walked along the Han river telling each other everything and anything, unafraid of the other’s judgment. They made their way back to the club to search for Seunghyun but he had already left by then, and since it was almost dawn and their growing attraction towards each other was too much to bear any longer, Jiyong and Youngbae fucked for the first time in a locked bathroom stall of the club.

It should have been raunchy and rough.

Instead, Youngbae kissed Jiyong for so long that their lips became kiss-swollen. He touched Jiyong with such a soft honesty that Jiyong almost wanted to cry. No one had ever touched him like that before - like he was worthy of the most gentle kind of love. Mild and calm, like the sea on a windless day.

Youngbae made the wild Jiyong into a tender thing, with his kisses and his fingers and the way he kept saying his name so softly - a prayer in the dark.

When he came into Youngbae’s mouth, Jiyong had known that this would be the end for him.

He would never love another man like he loved Youngbae.

* * *

“You’ve been acting so strange lately, Bae-ah.”

Youngbae sighed, hands wringing together in the manner that Jiyong knew meant that he was nervous beyond belief. They were walking along the Han river, much like the first night they had met, after a delightful and expensive dinner at a local restaurant. Jiyong had loved spending the evening with his longtime boyfriend, but it was now impossible to ignore the way the man was so damn jumpy.

“I already told you, it doesn’t matter what you decide, I’m going to go wherever you go.”

Youngbae smiled, but it was a tight smile and it worried Jiyong. He’d been offered a tremendous opportunity in the form of a job with the American government but hadn’t made a decision yet. Jiyong didn’t understand Youngbae’s hesitation. Seoul was their home, yes, but Youngbae was his heart. Living far from home would be difficult, but living without a heart would be unthinkable.

“You’d really leave everything behind?” Youngbae asked, for probably the millionth time.

“You fool,” Jiyong huffed out, halting his steps and turning on his heel to face Youngbae. “You _are_ my everything. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

Youngbae’s lips quirked like he was trying to hide a smile.

“It’s not funny,” Jiyong scoffed, crossing his arms. “I’m sick of having this conversation with you. You’re using me as an excuse. This is a great opportunity and you’re throwing it away because you’re scared. You’re scared that you’re not good enough. It has nothing to do with me.”

“You’re right,” Youngbae said, his hand shoved into his pocket. “It’s not about you. When I first got the offer, I was so scared that I wasn’t going to do well. But I’ve been thinking about it for a long time and I think I can do it. I believe in myself.”

Jiyong felt like a weight had been lifted. He opened his mouth to shower Youngbae with praises and teases alike, but Youngbae interrupted him.

“I believe in myself because of you. You changed my life, Jiyong. When I first met you, I felt like I was worth something because you loved me. And it has taken almost seven years to finally realize that that’s not true.”

Youngbae bit his lip. “You love me _because_ I’m worth something.”

Jiyong smiled, his eyes watering. “Bae-ah…”

“I mean it. Your love has transformed me.”

Jiyong held out his hand, beckoning Youngbae to come closer to him. He wanted to hold him in his arms so much at this moment and he didn’t care who saw them.

“I got this seven years ago and I’ve been saving it. Waiting for the day when I would finally be the man you deserve. Yesterday, I realized I wasn’t afraid anymore. Of anything. I know I can do anything I set my mind to.”

Jiyong’s eyebrows drew into a frown as Youngbae lowered himself to one knee and pulled out a small black box from his pocket.

“Kwon Jiyong, I have loved you since I met you but I didn’t deserve you until now. Will you marry me?”

Jiyong stood, mouth agape, hands clutched to his chest, utterly unable to believe that this was happening to him. A proposal was always something in his sister’s future, something for little girls to dream of and for little boys to dread. A boy like him could never dream of a love like this.

“Youngbae…” was the only reply that could leave his lips.

Luckily, Youngbae knew him. He knew his heart and he wasn’t deterred by his hesitation.

“We’d be living in a state that recognizes gay marriage. I know we always said that it didn’t matter, but I think it’d be nice to be able to call you my husband. Officially, you know.”

"Yes," Jiyong kneeled down in front of Youngbae, his eyes full of tears and his heart full of joy. "Of course, I’ll marry you. God, I love you so much.”

He wrapped his arms around Youngbae’s shoulders and buried his face in his shoulder. Youngbae held him so tight that Jiyong's back hurt but it didn't even phase him. Jiyong had never in his life experienced a bliss quite like this.

They were a sight to behold.

Two men, brought to their knees in front of dark water, sharing the heavy burden of their love.


	5. Part IV: The Horror

It was the memories of Youngbae’s sweet marriage proposal and the first night they had met that kept Jiyong going.

 _That_ was the man he fell in love with. _That_ was the man he was going to save.

Jiyong was not going to lie down and let this horror destroy the person he admired more than anyone in the world.

And horror was the only way to describe what had become Youngbae - at least in Jiyong’s opinion. After the night where the creature wearing his beautiful love’s face had raped Jiyong, Youngbae had once again changed drastically. Jiyong had once thought that nothing could be worse than the way Youngbae snapped at him constantly and used him for rough sex before the terrible night. But he was wrong.

Jiyong had found Youngbae a couple of days after the attack. He was lying motionless on the floor of the putrid-smelling basement, eyes wide open and staring off into space.

“Youngbae-ah, are you okay?” Jiyong had screamed, shaking his husband’s shoulders as panicked tears stung at his eyes. He loved him so much, still, despite everything.

“I’m sorry, Jiyong,” Youngbae said, but his voice was hoarse and barely above a whisper and he couldn’t move on his own. Jiyong had to support most of the shorter man’s weight as he had helped him up the stairs.

Youngbae’s eyes were now always half-closed and his skin was sallow. Every breath he took sounded like a chore. He had no energy to do anything and the last straw for Jiyong was when Youngbae was too weak to change his own clothes.

What was happening to Youngbae wasn’t normal. And it wasn’t over.

“ _Hyung,_ I need your advice.”

Seunghyun scoffed. “ _Hyung_? You never call me _hyung_. What kind of trouble did you get into?”

Jiyong wanted to joke around with his old friend, pretend like his life was still normal in some way, but Youngbae was upstairs in their bedroom and he had been bedridden for about two weeks with no signs of improvement. The fear Jiyong felt at his husband’s current condition finally made Jiyong admit the truth.

“I need to know what kind of condition can make someone go from being so energetic that they want to constantly have sex to being unable to move or even bathe themselves.”

Seunghyun blanched. “Is this a joke?”

“No, it’s not a fucking joke, okay,” Jiyong snapped. Seunghyun was a successful surgeon in Korea and Jiyong needed his medical expertise.

“What the hell is going on?” Seunghyun asked.

“There’s something wrong with Youngbae!” Jiyong couldn’t fight the waver in his voice, but he held back his tears. “He went from turning into a fucking sex addict to literally not being able to leave the bed for the past two weeks. He barely eats, I have to force him on most days, and it’s - it’s gone.”

Seunghyun frowned. “What’s gone?”

“The light, Seunghyun. The light in him, it’s gone. I can’t explain it any other way.”

“Try to calm down, okay," Seunghyun spoke calmly. "Tell me everything. What happened before this?”

Jiyong tapped his fingernails impatiently against the wooden desk. There was a panic rising in his chest and he couldn’t stop the words from bubbling out. “I can’t just calm down. He’s dying. I know he’s dying but I don’t know _why._ ”

“So let me get this straight? Everything was perfect and two weeks ago he lost all his energy?”

Jiyong sighed and steeled himself for what was coming. It took him about five minutes to explain everything that had happened - the whole truth, even the ugly parts - and ten minutes to sit quietly and let Seunghyun yell at him for not telling him sooner.

“Seriously, Jiyong, I can’t believe you tried to handle this on your own! It sounds like he’s going crazy.”

Jiyong snapped his head up at that. “He’s not crazy.”

“Mental illness can manifest itself at different ages - ”

“Seunghyun, you don’t understand," Jiyong struggled. "He’s _not_ crazy.”

Seunghyun sighed. “Okay, well, has he had any head injuries recently? Sometimes that can cause drastic changes in personality.”

“It’s not that. There’s something...something _in_ him.”

Seunghyun frowned, perhaps in disappointment but more likely in disbelief. “Jiyong - ”

“Listen, if you’re not going to believe me, that’s fine," Jiyong spoke dejectedly. "I know it sounds insane. I don’t want to believe it either. Just don’t dismiss me, okay? I really need someone to just, just - ”

“I’ll be there next Tuesday.”

“What?”

“While you’ve been babbling, I’ve been buying a plane ticket. I don’t know what’s happening but I’m going to help you find out.”

“You don’t think I’m insane?” Jiyong smiled fingers automatically reaching out to touch Seunghyun’s pixelated face. The other man smiled in response. He was still noble - despite his best efforts. Despite the fact that Jiyong had broken his heart all those years ago, he knew Seunghyun would always come to the rescue. Jiyong let out a breath.

“No more than usual,” Seunghyun’s wicked grin was bright, even from thousands of miles away.

“Thank you.”

“I love you, Jiyong,” Seunghyun said a rare display of affection. “Take care of yourself and your husband until I get there, alright?”

“Alright. I’ll see you soon.”

Jiyong thought of one more thing before closing the laptop. “I love you, too.”

* * *

“Youngbae?”

Youngbae’s eyes fluttered open. He smiled, but it looked like it hurt.

“Good morning,” Youngbae’s voice was raspy, as if he’d been screaming all night. But that was impossible because Jiyong had laid right next to him and watched him sleep.

“It’s the afternoon,” Jiyong said, tucking a stray hair behind Youngbae’s ear.

“Oh,” was all Youngbae could say.

Jiyong’s fingers carded through Youngbae’s unkempt hair, and he marvelled at how beautiful Youngbae looked, despite how exhausted he seemed to be.

Despite Youngbae’s unhealthy appearance, Jiyong’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of this man - his man. He wanted nothing more than to lie in bed with him and let death come to them both - take them quietly in their sleep as they held each other tenderly.

Hopelessly.

“Do you want to try something today?” Jiyong asked, careful to keep the sadness out of his voice. Seeing Youngbae in such a weakened state unnerved Jiyong to no end. He felt like bursting into tears every time Youngbae couldn’t bend down to tug on his own socks, or when he had to help the other man to make it to the bathroom on time.

Youngbae sighed, his breath a white puff of warm air, but the corners of his lips lifted the tiniest fraction. “Anything for you,” he breathed.

Jiyong smiled and planted soft lips against the pale skin of Youngbae’s forehead. “You’re too good to me, Bae-ah.”

Youngbae eyes fell shut and he turned his face away from Jiyong. “That’s not true. I hurt you.”

Jiyong slipped into the bed beside Youngbae, gathering the other man into his arms, cradling him like a young child. “That wasn’t you. I _know_ that wasn’t you, honey. We’re going to make you better, okay?”

Youngbae nodded weakly but his eyes held a shame that Jiyong couldn’t make disappear, no matter how tightly he held him.

“Let’s try to go outside today. I think some fresh air might do you good,” Jiyong said.

After dressing Youngbae in warm attire and a slew of blankets, Jiyong went downstairs to retrieve something. His last trip to the basement had proved fruitful; he’d found an old wheelchair, still in working condition. The find had given him the idea to take Youngbae out of the house.

Into the sunshine.

Now, Jiyong made his way down the stairs into the basement to find the wheelchair. As soon as he opened the basement door, Jiyong was once again assaulted by an indescribable stench. It filled his nostrils instantly, making him gag and collapse into a coughing fit.

The shadows loomed close in Jiyong’s vision and he shivered. Goosebumps littered his arms as a cold breeze blew from the darkness of the basement.

He walked down the steps, even though his heart beat rapidly and erratically. There was just something about this space, something about this particular part of the house that always set Jiyong’s nerves on fire. But he soldiered on.

For Youngbae.

As soon as Jiyong found the wheelchair, he rushed back upstairs.

He couldn’t help but feel like the shadows always seemed darker when he was close to the basement.

* * *

The sun shone brilliantly outside. Golden, crisp leaves blew lightly in the autumn breeze and the distant sounds of cars on the neighboring road reminded Jiyong that there was still a world outside of their home - life outside of the walls of the house. Jiyong realized then that he hadn't been outside for more than two weeks.

Youngbae seemed better. In the clear light of day, Jiyong could see his lips were dry and cracked and his stubble was growing in funny little patches. His skin looked even paler. Yet the sunshine made him smile and he kept his eyes open as Jiyong took him around the backyard. Jiyong counted the fact that Youngbae hadn’t fallen asleep as a small victory.

"Let's go farther," Youngbae asked. His voice seemed better, too. More full of the boyish wonder that used to characterize his tone.

"Think you can handle it?" Jiyong responded, worried to no end about his husband’s failing health.

"I can do anything, babe," Youngbae smiled weakly and Jiyong loved him so much for trying so damn hard.

Further they went, deeper into the surrounding woods. Deeper into territory only Jiyong had explored. He remembered that there was a small pond, somewhere closeby. The way Youngbae's breathing was becoming more labored was worrying Jiyong. He wanted Youngbae to rest, but the smaller man urged him to go farther from the house and their comfort zone and Jiyong wasn’t going to deny his man anything. Not now.

The pond was larger than Jiyong remembered. The water rippled; it trembled with the cool breeze and the gentle touch of a huge weeping willow’s long, serpentine branches.

Youngbae gasped. His eyes filled up with tears and Jiyong leaned down and wrapped his arms around his husband’s shoulders and neck.

“I know, it’s so beautiful, isn’t it?” Jiyong whispered in Youngbae’s ear, nipping at the spot behind it.

“I don’t want to be here,” Youngbae sobbed, and Jiyong’s heart clenched.

“Bae-ah, what’s wrong?”

“This is where it happened,” Youngbae wept, his body wracked with sobs and a sorrow that Jiyong had never seen from him. “I want to go home,” he wailed.

Jiyong frowned, hands clasped tightly around the handles of the wheelchair. “What are you talking about? What happened here?"

“Jiyongie,” Youngbae begged in a ragged voice that shattered Jiyong’s heart and resolve. “Please just take us home.”

So Jiyong did. He pushed Youngbae’s wheelchair quickly through the soft, muddy ground, arms burning with the effort but unable to slow down because every time he did, Youngbae would panic and start sobbing again and Jiyong’s weakened heart couldn’t take that.

Later that night, when Jiyong tried to ask Youngbae what exactly had happened, Youngbae insisted that he didn’t remember ever leaving the house at all.

Maybe it was his imagination, but as Youngbae drifted off to sleep, Jiyong could swear the shadows in their bedroom shifted closer to their bed.

  
  


* * *

Jiyong stood at the sink, clearing off Youngbae’s plate. He hadn’t eaten any of his dinner.

Again.

Jiyong sighed as he poured the food down the garbage disposal.

Two days until Seunghyun’s arrival and Youngbae’s conditioned had not changed. In fact, it had worsened. His cheeks held shadows, sunken unusually, signaling rapid weight loss. He mostly slept and Jiyong was the one who answered the phone calls from his supervisor and explained away his absence by citing mysterious health issues.

Jiyong couldn’t wait for Seunghyun to arrive. He felt that a familiar face would bring so much joy to the eerily quiet house. Give Youngbae a boost of energy. Or, at the very least, figure out what in the world was going on with him.

As Jiyong scrubbed away the grime from porcelain plates, he became increasingly uncomfortable. The shadows in his eyesight darkened and he somehow knew he was no longer alone in the kitchen.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” Jiyong whispered to the darkness. There was no response.

“Don’t fuck with me,” he warned, mouth set in a scornful grimace. His hands shook with anger.

“I know you’re there,” Jiyong said, his voice venomous and clearer.

The lights in the kitchen flickered. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence, but Jiyong knew better.

“I know you’re trying to take him from me,” Jiyong continued doing the dishes even as he spoke. “I don’t know what you are and I don’t care.”

The lights flickered again. A faint groaning noise echoed in the hallway, yet Jiyong felt no fear. Only righteous, blinding rage.

“You’re not going to win,” Jiyong hissed. “He loves me and I love him and that’s all there is to it.”

The wind howled outside the window, furious as Jiyong himself.

“You’re never going to break us apart.”

Darkness suddenly engulfed Jiyong and in his shock, the plate in his hand fell to the ground and shattered beyond repair. A pair of ice-cold hands circled his neck and squeezed tightly. Jiyong struggled. He kicked and punched and flailed for minutes that felt like an eternity as he struggled against the hands choking the life out of him.

In the darkness, he managed to lift his leg enough to push at the creature with his knee, and the grip on his neck loosened. Upper hand established, Jiyong screamed and bit down hard on what he assumed was a forearm. The lights came back on.

Jiyong found himself on his hands and knees, absolutely alone. He struggled to catch his breath, his throat still raw and delicate from where the hands had been. Jiyong grabbed a large kitchen knife and looked around him.

Nothing seemed out of place.

Nothing was disturbed.

The plate that he’d dropped laid on the floor, shattered into tiny pieces. The water from the faucet was still flowing freely.

There was no one else there.

The blade in Jiyong’s hand shook as his heart still beat rapidly. He blinked away the confusion at the scene. It couldn't have all been in his mind. He wasn't going insane. The darkness in the corner of his eyes seemed lighter than before.

He had fought it. The creature.

He had fought it and Jiyong was pretty sure he’d won this battle.

He smirked.

“Jiyong!” came the sudden, strangled cry from upstairs.

Jiyong tightened his grip around the handle of the knife and ran through the house as fast as he could, scared out of his mind that the creature had only let him go so that it could attack Youngbae.

When he opened the door to their bedroom, it was too late.

* * *

Seunghyun’s arrival was thankfully uneventful. He took a taxi cab from the airport to Jiyong and Youngbae’s house and he didn’t gasp at the bruises that littered Youngbae’s face.

Jiyong was grateful.

“How are you feeling, Youngbae?” he said instead, dropping his suitcase to hold the much shorter man tightly.

Youngbae hugged him back as best he could. “I’m great,” he lied and Seunghyun looked at Jiyong accusingly.

“Sit down, Bae-ah,” Jiyong said, helping his weak husband back into his wheelchair. “Don’t expend so much energy.”

“Jiyong, I got to talk to you,” Seunghyun said, his tone curt.

Jiyong wheeled Youngbae into the living room and left him by the window. "I'll be right back, honey," he soothed before planting a kiss to his husband’s forehead.

Seunghyun still stood at the foot of the stairs, mouth set in a thin line, clearly furious.

Jiyong steeled himself for a confrontation. “I know what it looks like - ”

“It looks like you beat the hell out of him, Jiyong." Seunghyun interrupted. "He’s in a fucking wheelchair now? What did you do?”

“I would never, ever hurt him, Seunghyun. You fucking know that.”

Seunghyun took a deep breath and squared his jaw. “Then you need to explain to me what happened and it better be convincing or you’re both coming back on that plane with me.”

“You’re not going to believe me,” Jiyong’s voice was subdued and Seunghyun’s eyes softened.

“Try me, Ji.”

“It attacked us.”

Seunghyun raised an eyebrow. “What did?”

Jiyong took a deep breath before lifting his chin to stare down Seunghyun. He’d had enough of beating around the bush. “The creature that is living inside Youngbae - the thing that is making him sick - it attacked us. Two days ago, while I was doing the dishes, it tried to choke me but I fought it off. Youngbae is obviously in no condition to fight anything so it got a few good punches in before I got to the room.”

“Is that where these marks are from?” Seunghyun asked, reaching out to tilt Jiyong’s chin back, getting a closer look at the bruises on his neck.

“Yes,” Jiyong flinched when Seunghyun’s fingers grazed a sensitive spot.

“What did it look like?”

Jiyong frowned. “What did what look like?”

“The creature, Jiyong. The thing that attacked you.”

Jiyong ducked his head and stepped back. “I didn’t see it. It attacked me in the dark and it was already gone by the time I got to Youngbae.”

Seunghyun sighed. His face displayed disbelief but he dropped the subject.

“Alright, let’s go see what I can do for Mr. Perfect.”

Jiyong smiled, relief washing over him. Seunghyun would help. He always did.

  
  


* * *

  
  


It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that having another person in the house, especially someone from their old life, made Youngbae happy.

He started to smile again, not as brilliantly as before, but with enough emotion that Jiyong was taken aback and just the tiniest bit jealous.

The house was no longer silent - bursts of laughter from Seunghyun and Jiyong filled the halls and from time to time, Youngbae would join. Every once in a while, his husband would have enough energy to walk on his own and kiss Jiyong breathless and Jiyong started to hope again- started to believe that maybe it would all pass. Maybe it had all just been a terrible dream and Jiyong was finally waking up.

It felt like the calm after the storm. No more attacks. No more shadows.

Still, Youngbae was losing weight at an alarming rate, and Seunghyun’s tests hadn't revealed the cause. Youngbae still couldn’t make it an entire day on his own two feet and Jiyong had the unfortunate task of informing Youngbae’s bosses that his medical leave would be indefinite.

Jiyong decided that enough was enough.

He had to learn more about the house. About what was in the basement.

Seunghyun stayed with Youngbae, mirthfully joking about his new position as a glorified babysitter, while Jiyong traveled to the local library.

Even the air outside of the house seemed different. Everything was so dark and stale inside their home and Jiyong inhaled deeply, surprised at how easy it was to simply breathe.

The library’s front desk brought him face to face with a person he’d never thought he’d see again. The boy from the club.

“It’s you,” the dark-haired boy smiled. He looked different in the bright lighting of the library, dressed in work clothes instead of tight leather pants. He looked even more handsome.

“My name’s Jiyong,” Jiyong said, wishing he’d put more effort into his ensemble.

“Seunghyun,” the boy said, smirking. “But my friends call me Seungri.”

Jiyong smiled back, pleased to be able to speak in his native tongue. “Nice to meet you, Seungri.”

“Still married to that jealous creep?”

Jiyong’s stomach bottomed out, recalling the events surrounding the last time he'd seen this person. The bruising grip on his bicep and the blood that rushed out of Youngbae's torn fist. “He’s not usually like that.”

“That’s what they all say,” Seungri scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“No, you don’t understand,” Jiyong’s voice lowered. “He’s never like that. What you saw, it was - it’s not his fault.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, I’ve seen it before - ”

“No,” Jiyong shouted, earning himself curious stares from the few patrons in his vicinity. “Don’t talk about him like that. I’ve known him for seven years and he has never done anything like that before. Believe me, that wasn’t him.”

“Okay, okay, I believe you.” Seungri’s face softened, and Jiyong suddenly realized that hot tears were falling down his cheeks. He wiped them roughly with his jacket sleeve.

“You guys new in town?” Seungri said, desperate to change the subject.

“Moved in a few months ago. I didn’t think people like us would live in such a small town.”

Seungri raised his eyebrow. “People like us. You mean Korean or gay?”

Jiyong tried to laugh and enjoy Seungri’s humor, but the sound that emerged seemed desperate and dishonest. It eased the tension, at least. “Both, I guess.”

“The clubs in the city are great but the rent’s a crime. So what can I help you with today?”

“I need to look up some old records. Maybe newspaper articles or some property deeds.”

Seungri typed a few words onto the keyboard in front of him. “I'm not sure we have property records. What exactly are you looking for?”

“I need information on the house we moved into. It’s on Weeping Willow Lane.”

Seungri looked up sharply, his eyes suddenly wide. Jiyong took note. “Do you know where that is?”

“I think maybe there's someone else who can help you, I've got to go on break soon - ”

“Wait a minute,” Jiyong reached out and grabbed Seungri's forearm. “You know something about that house, don't you?”

Seungri bit his lip. “They're just rumors.”

“Please,” Jiyong begged. “Tell me something. Tell me anything. I need to know what happened there.”

Seungri sighed and shook his head. “Not here. Let's go outside.”

The courtyard of the library was quaint and intimate. There were no other patrons there and Jiyong supposed the privacy it provided was a sign of the sensitive nature of the information Seungri was bound to provide.

The younger man looked nervous as he sat down on a stone bench, blinking rapidly and breathing shallowly. “You can't tell anyone I told you this. The people here make it a point to pretend like it didn't happen and I'm going to be ostracized if anyone finds out I talked about this."

“Okay,” Jiyong agreed. “I promise I won't tell anyone.”

“That house has been—or I guess _had_ been—empty for about ten years. I hadn't moved here yet when it happened but shit like that is hard to keep a secret.”

“There was a family that used to live there,” Seungri continued, eyes darting around nervously. “There were two young kids and the parents had been high school sweethearts. They were absolutely perfect. Until the father fucking lost it. He went insane—complained about hearing voices and seeing shadows for months before he snapped. One night, he took the two kids out to this pond behind the house and he drowned them. He shot himself in the head before the police got there. The mother's body was discovered weeks later. He had buried her in the basement."

Jiyong’s mouth hung open as his mind struggled to process what Seungri was telling him. “Why wouldn’t they tell us about that when we signed for the house? That’s fucked up.”

“You want to know what’s really fucked up?” Seungri asked. “According to my neighbor, that’s not even the first time that something like that had happened inside that house. That's just the last time it happened. If you ask me, they should tear that place down.”

Jiyong felt like he could no longer breathe. He felt like he was going to faint at any second and it was only Seungri’s fingers snapping in his face that brought him out of his shock.

“Are you gonna be okay, man?”

Jiyong only shrugged. He didn't think anything would be okay again.

  
  


* * *

  
  


They had to move.

They had to move out of that house as soon as possible.

Jiyong rushed home, mind in a daze, foot barely easing off the gas pedal. When he stepped through the front door, the only thought he had was of telling Youngbae everything.

Youngbae laid on their bed, propped up by pillows. He looked clean and freshly-shaven; Seunghyun mostly likely helped him with the process. Still, he looked a bit stronger than he had in weeks, there was some color on his face again. Jiyong could see it even without the glow of the laptop he was currently using.

“Haru-ah,” Youngbae's voice even held more strength. “You know your dad is just trying to do what's best for you. It's time you start sleeping in your own room.”

“I don't like it in my room,” Haru responded cutely.

Youngbae's smile was so close to the real thing that from his position by the door, Jiyong felt his heart melt. He wondered if Youngbae even noticed his presence or if he was, as usual, too wrapped up in his niece.

“Why not?” Youngbae asked.

“It's too dark. It scares me.”

“Oh, sweet girl,” Youngbae cooed. “You should have told me sooner. Don't you know your uncle knows the secret to not being afraid of the dark?”

“You do?”

“Of course, I do! It's really easy but you have to listen very carefully. Are you ready?”

Jiyong could just imagine her small face nodding seriously, ready to receive her trusted uncle's advice.

“All you have to do when you're afraid of the darkness is let in the light."

“You mean like turn on the lamp?”

Youngbae laughed. “No, not that. Close your eyes and let the light into your heart. That's how you stop being afraid.”

“But what about the monsters in the dark?”

“There are no monsters, Haru-ah. That's all in your imagination. Nothing in the dark can truly hurt you.”

“Okay, _oppa_. I believe you.”

“Good,” Youngbae grinned.

“You've been in the dark for a long time so you should know.”

The color drained from Youngbae's face. “What did you say? Wait, _hyung_ , I need to talk to Haru again.”

“It's way past her bedtime, her mom's going to kill me,” Tablo's voice streamed out of the computer speakers. “You'll talk to her soon enough. Our flight is in two weeks. You'll pick us up from the airport or should we catch a cab?”

“Please, _hyung_ , let me talk to - ”

“You know what? We'll just figure that out later," Tablo responded absentmindedly. "I gotta go, Hye Jung just got home. Take care!”

Youngbae shut the computer and looked at Jiyong morosely. His eyes asked a silent question and Jiyong understood. He nodded to let him know that he had heard everything.

“I don't know what's happening to me, Jiyong,” Youngbae murmured as Jiyong wrapped him in his arms.

Jiyong wanted to tell him everything he'd learned earlier in the day but he didn't think that Youngbae's delicate ego could handle it. Not at a time like this. So he settled for soothing him, whispering that everything was going to be okay over and over again, until his husband drifted off to sleep and Jiyong almost found himself believing his own lie.

  
  


* * *

“Who are you talking to?” Jiyong asked, making Seunghyun start.

Jiyong had just walked into the living room after leaving Youngbae sound asleep in their bedroom, following the deep grumble of Seunghyun's baritone. Seunghyun made his voice quieter as he walked out of the living room and Jiyong felt a panic rising in his throat.

Why was Seunghyun acting so jumpy?

Jiyong thought about how Seunghyun had been in their home for five days and when he wasn't doing tests or taking care of Jiyong's own husband, he was constantly talking on his cell phone.

“What's your problem?” Jiyong followed Seunghyun into the kitchen.

“I gotta go,” Seunghyun said into the phone. “I'll call you again soon.”

“Who is that?” Jiyong asked again, his anger now coloring his voice.

“No one. Since when are you so nosy?”

“Since you've been spending all your time on the phone with some mystery person.”

Seunghyun rose to the challenge, never one to back down from Jiyong's aggression. “Why are being so paranoid, Jiyong?”

“Excuse me?” Jiyong blanched. “I'm not paranoid, you're the one being suspicious.”

Seunghyun barked out a humorless laugh. “Please. The only one being suspicious is you.”

“What are you talking about?” 

Seunghyun inhaled deeply. “Jiyong, you know that I adore you and I want you to be okay. But this creature-inside-Youngbae excuse is getting out of hand. I think you need to see a psychiatrist or some sort of mental health professional.”

Jiyong slammed his fist down on the counter, unable to contain his rage at Seunghyun's betrayal. “I thought you said you believed me.”

“I believe that you believe that it's true,” Seunghyun countered.

Jiyong tried to control himself, the anger rising from the pit of his stomach. The shadows in his eyesight suddenly became darker and it was then that he realized that they'd never truly left. He'd just gotten used to them.

“Tell me the truth about how Youngbae got those bruises,” Seunghyun said, his tone now careful and quiet, like he was approaching a wild animal.

“I already told you,” Jiyong hissed.

“I've been with him all the time for days now, Jiyong, and there's nothing strange going on with him. In fact, the only strange thing I've seen is you.”

Jiyong shook his head. “How can you possibly say that the marks on his body, his lack of energy, and his sudden weight loss aren't strange?”

“I don't think they are caused by a supernatural creature, Jiyong. I think they are caused by you.”

“What?” Jiyong gasped, angry tears pricking at his eyes. “How can you think that? You know how much I love him, how can you possibly think that?”

Seunghyun clasped his hands around Jiyong's shoulders, face to face with the shorter man. His eyes held a pity that Jiyong wanted to destroy. As it was, he could only try to hold back tears at his dearest friend's ghastly accusation.

“Jiyong, listen to me. Youngbae is weak and losing weight because you're not feeding him.”

Jiyong sucked in a sharp breath as Seunghyun continued. “I see you cook for him, I see you put the food on a plate, but I have never seen you give that food to Youngbae.”

“Fuck you,” Jiyong whispered, his throat suddenly running dry. Memories of the past few weeks flooded over him and it frightened him that he could not recall a single moment where he had fed Youngbae the food he had cooked for him. He didn't want to admit it out loud, though. He didn't want anyone, especially Seunghyun, to think that he felt anything more than the utmost devotion to Youngbae.

He didn't want to know the truth himself, because suddenly, his head ached with the implications of it all.

Had Youngbae ever done the horrible things Jiyong thought he had? Or had it been all in Jiyong's mind the entire time, like sweet Haru's monsters?

Was Youngbae's darkness none other than Jiyong himself?

* * *

The next morning, Jiyong awoke at the crack of dawn. He padded downstairs carefully, mindful not to make any loud sounds that might awake Seunghyun or Youngbae. He flitted around the kitchen, making a large, elaborate breakfast, determined to prove Seunghyun wrong.

The morning light made the inside of the house look curiously abandoned. Dust motes floated by the window and a faint layer of gray dust covered the kitchen table. Time seemed to move at a slow pace, and the air held a faint stale scent that Jiyong couldn't quite place his finger on.

It didn't really matter. Jiyong would worry about cleaning the house later, after they sold it, perhaps. Right now, the most important thing was making sure that Youngbae was safe and full and that Seunghyun was wrong.

Youngbae was already awake by the time Jiyong entered the room, arms full of plates and cups. He awoke on his own more often since Seunghyun had arrived. He laid in the bed, looking so very small and vulnerable and Jiyong's heart skipped a beat at his messy hair and sleep-swollen eyes.

“Honey, are you hungry?”

Youngbae nodded, but there was a caution in his eyes.

“Let's eat then, shall we?”

Jiyong gathered a spoonful of eggs to bring to Youngbae's mouth, but when he got within a few inches of Youngbae's lips, his hand trembled violently, spilling the food everywhere. He tried three more times before he gave up hope.

He climbed into the bed and kissed Youngbae, expecting him to protest, but the smaller man accepted Jiyong's kisses eagerly like he'd been without them for too long. If he couldn't feed him, then Jiyong could still do this. He could still show him how much he loved him with his words and his body.

“I love you,” Jiyong whispered, making his way down Youngbae's body. He kissed his thighs, making the other man shiver and let out a contented sigh.

Jiyong continued his path, stopping to kiss his knees and then his calf muscle. Youngbae gasped and Jiyong's eyes flow open to see the cause. He had accidentally kissed an angry red mark on Youngbae's calf. He looked closely at the mark and when he realized it was an imprint of teeth, a memory bubbled to the surface, striking Jiyong like lightning.

The creature he had fought in the darkness, alone.

Jiyong had bit it.

Maybe it had never been a creature at all. Maybe it had been Jiyong's fragile mind, making excuses for his abuse of Youngbae. Jiyong climbed out of the bed quickly, head spinning and heart hurting. Youngbae called out to him, begged him to come back, begged him to kiss him again, but Jiyong couldn't. He didn't trust himself anymore.

Jiyong went back downstairs to find Seunghyun in the kitchen, searching through the cupboards. He shoved the plate of eggs into his hands.

“Please feed him,” he said, utterly and completely defeated.

“Jiyong - ”

“Go,” Jiyong interrupted. “He's starving.”

As Seunghyun made his way out of the kitchen, Jiyong called out to him one last time. “Take care of him. Whatever happens, just promise me that you'll take care of him.”

Seunghyun nodded gravely and followed Jiyong's commands.

* * *

Two days passed and Jiyong was too ashamed to even sleep next to Youngbae. He stood in the hallway, debating with himself about whether he should go upstairs and tell Seunghyun and Youngbae everything that he had learned. He could hear their voices, muffled by the closed door, probably talking about him.

Jiyong looked outside the front door. The sun was setting, the sky was alight with orange and red hues and there was something sinister in the air. The trees had lost all their leaves and the branches were bare and thin, jutting out at macabre angles. Their car was missing from the driveway.

It wasn't until he heard footsteps making their way down the stairs that Jiyong remembered that Seunghyun had borrowed their car to go to the city earlier in the day.

Jiyong turned around to find the figure of Youngbae at the end of the hallway. His chin was tilted down, his mouth was set in a scowl and his eyes looked dark and foreign.

It wasn't his Youngbae.

He walked down the hall slowly, steps careful and sure, and Jiyong backed up against the front door as his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. The creature moved with the same grace of Youngbae, but its hands twitched at its side unnaturally, a cheap imitation of Youngbae's nervous habit.

“What are you?” Jiyong found the strength to ask.

Youngbae grinned viciously. “I'm Youngbae.”

The voice was the same - a pleasing yet slightly nasal tone - but the words came out harsh and jagged, like pieces of broken glass. The creature was still learning how to use Youngbae's mouth.

“No you're not,” Jiyong shot back, as the creature wearing Youngbae came closer and closer.

“I'm in his head, though. I know everything he knows and I feel everything he feels.”

“Why are you doing this to us?”

The creature cocked his head and grinned devilishly. “He loves you so much, you know. Fights me all the damn time. It almost tires me out.”

Jiyong's heart raced as the creature stood in front of him. “Why him?” Jiyong asked, his voice thin. He wanted to know why the creature had chosen his kind-hearted husband to torture instead of himself.

“Isn't it obvious? He loves you more than you love him.”

Jiyong's heart almost stopped. “That's not true!”

“Oh, baby,” the creature said, wrapping his hands around Jiyong's waist and pulling their hips flush together. Jiyong cringed. “We had such a good time together, didn't we?”

Jiyong closed his eyes, fighting back memories of indescribable pain and anguish. “You raped me.”

“You liked it,” the creature shot back, fingers digging painfully into Jiyong's hips. “You love it when he's rough with you. When he treats you like the dirty slut that you are.”

“Stop it,” Jiyong begged, eyes still closed to protect against the image of his love's face saying such horrible words.

“You like it now, you liked it a month ago and you liked it when you were fifteen.”

Jiyong's eyes flew open and the creature leaned in close.

“I told you, I know _everything_ he knows,” it hissed inhumanly, lips close to the shell Jiyong's ear.

Tears welled up in Jiyong's eyes. Youngbae was the only person in which Jiyong ever confided about what had happened to him in secondary school. How a manipulative, perverted teacher had forced him to engage in depraved acts that his young mind hadn't been able to understand. At fifteen, Jiyong had been raped by someone he looked up to and Youngbae was the only one who ever knew, because he was the only person Jiyong had ever been able to trust afterward.

“I know you like it when someone stronger than you hurts you and you know what? Youngbae knows it, too. He loves you even though deep down inside, he knows that you're nothing more than a whore and freak.”

“He doesn't think that - ”

“Who's in his head, Jiyong? You or me?”

“You're not real,” Jiyong whispered, looking up at the ceiling, trembling in Youngbae's hands.

The creature licked its lips before planting wet, open-mouthed kisses on Jiyong's throat. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“Leave him alone,” Jiyong begged. “Please, just leave him alone. I'll do anything you want.”

The creature's head snapped up and, for a second, Jiyong could swear he saw Youngbae's sincerity shining through. The light that had for so long been hidden.

The creature shook its head quickly and when it opened its eyes, they seemed even darker. Almost completely black. “You're already giving me what I want. The more he fights, the better it will be.”

Jiyong inhaled deeply and stared into the creature's opaque eyes, looking for another sign of his sweet husband. “Are you going to kill him?”

The creature laughed then, the sound low and distorted, as if resonating from the ends of the earth. Its laugh sent a shiver down Jiyong's spine but it wore Youngbae's face, so a deep, dark part of Jiyong wanted to give in to the horror and kiss him.

“I'm not going to destroy him, Jiyong. You are.”


	6. Part V: The Light

Jiyong’s eyes opened slowly - his mind still wrapped in the haze between asleep and awake, conscious and unconcious. Scraps of images and memories bloomed in his mind until suddenly, he recalled what he’d last seen before he had slipped into nothingness.

He recalled Youngbae’s face - his strong hands gripping at Jiyong’s waist, his body close and impossibly warm, almost burning hot. But it hadn’t been his husband. It had been something else. A creature that Jiyong couldn’t put a name to and although his mind brought up the word demon, Jiyong somehow knew that this was something much more powerful.

“You’re awake,” the relief in Seunghyun’s voice brought Jiyong out of his dark thoughts. He blinked away the last bits of murkiness before letting his eyes rest on the older man.

“Are you going to tell me what the hell happened?”

Jiyong only sighed. Seunghyun had so far proven to be more than a little skeptical of what Jiyong knew to be true and the younger man feared inflaming the situation. Besides, a more important thought struck him.

“Where’s Youngbae?” Jiyong asked, his voice rough. His eyes flitted around the room - their bedroom - searching for evidence of his husband’s whereabouts.

Seunghyun sat on the edge of the bed, close to Jiyong. “He’s downstairs on the couch,” he said, his tone careful and full of an emotion Jiyong couldn’t quite grasp. “I thought it would be best to keep you two apart.”

Jiyong frowned. “Why would you think that?” he scoffed as he tried to rise out of the bed. Seunghyun pushed him back into the pillows gently but firmly.

“No, Jiyong. We need to talk. Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know, Seunghyun,” Jiyong said. “I don’t remember.”

“When I came back to the house, the front door was wide open and you were passed out inside. Youngbae was nowhere to be found. I searched and searched inside the house after I put you in the bed, but he was gone.”

Jiyong tried to remember, tried to recall exactly what had happened before he opened his eyes only moments ago, but it was as if the memory was being purposely obscured. “How did you find him?”

Seunghyun’s eyes fell to his lap and he shook his head. “Jiyong, I don’t know how to explain what I saw…”

Jiyong’s eyes snapped up and his hands found Seunghyun’s, holding them tightly, sensing his friend’s apprehension. “Tell me. What did you see?”

Seunghyun bit his lip before shaking his head. Jiyong thought that he would need to urge him further but then, the older man spoke. “I went outside to look for him. Through your backyard, even further when I heard the splashing sounds.”

Jiyong’s eyes widened. “He was in the pond.”

Seunghyun nodded. “I can’t even - ” he broke off, but Jiyong’s pleading eyes made him continue. “Youngbae was in the water and I was almost too scared to go after him, but then I remembered you and how much you love each other and I couldn’t just leave him like that.”

“Like what? What did you see that made you afraid?”

A faraway look crossed Seunghyun’s face and he shook his head again, as if trying to clear his mind. “Jiyong, I really can’t explain it. It was like - I mean, he looked like he was trying to drown himself. His head would go under the water and he thrashed around like there was something holding him down and I just - ”

Seunghyun’s eyes fell to the floor this time. “I just can’t describe what I saw. It didn’t look...human.”

Jiyong knew instantly what had happened. Youngbae had tried to save him - save them all - from the horror by trying to drown himself.

Jiyong clenched his jaw, determined not to let the tears pricking at his eyes fall. He felt such an immense pride at the devotion and determination of his husband. He had promised Jiyong that he’d never let anyone hurt him again and he’d followed through on his promise.

Jiyong knew - with everything in his being - that all was not lost. Youngbae was strong enough the break the spell, or possession, or whatever it was.

There was a light at the end of the darkness.

“Do you believe me now?” Jiyong asked and Seunghyun sucked in a shuddering breath.

“It could have been a seizure or something, I didn’t get the chance to really look - ”

“Stop it. You said yourself that you can’t explain what you saw. That it didn’t look human. Even if you don’t believe me, can you believe in what you saw? Can you honestly tell me that you think any of this is normal?”

Seunghyun shook his head and stood up. “I don’t know what I saw, Jiyong. Just give me some time to think about this. I’m going out. Buying us some dinner. I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Jiyong laid back and closed his eyes. He listened to Seunghyun’s footsteps. They stopped in the living room for a few minutes, no doubt checking on Youngbae, and then continued out the door. The front door shut quietly, but Jiyong heard it still, along with the muffled sound of the engine of the car coming to life and then fading away.

He didn’t feel himself drift off to sleep.

* * *

Jiyong opened his eyes again, half an hour after Seunghyun’s departure. His eyes moved around the room, taking in the sight of the small things that made it theirs. Like the photographs that Jiyong had spent so long finding the perfect frames for. Each photo depicted beautiful and tender moments in their lives.

There was the time they’d gone skiing with Daesung and Seunghyun, the moment forever immortalized in a picture of the four men grinning brightly at the camera, clad in full winter gear, mere moments before Seunghyun had slipped and sprained his ankle. He’d spent the rest of the trip in the cabin on the couch and Youngbae hadn’t stopped teasing him the entire time.

On the wall next to their dresser mirror, there was a lovely black and white photograph of Youngbae holding little Haru in his arms, the day Tablo and Hye Jung had come home from the hospital. Jiyong had been deep into his obsession with photography in those days, and the shot had been taken with a high-quality film camera. Youngbae’s eyes had been so focused on the small bundle in his arms that he hadn’t realized Jiyong had taken a photograph of the first moment he had held her until his future husband had given it to him in a simple and classic black picture frame for his birthday.

And on their bedside table, Jiyong’s favorite photograph of all.

Their wedding had been a small affair - simple and short. They hadn’t hired a wedding photographer but Jiyong had handed one of his old cameras over to Daesung and let him snap candids of the small reception. Later on, he’d given the newlyweds a gorgeous album of all the photographs that he’d taken and the one that stood out the most was the one Daesung took as the reception was coming to a close. Bodies filled the dance floor, clutching each other tightly as it had been a ballad that was playing. Two bodies stood apart from the rest - bathed in the soft afternoon sunlight, their faces in full view of the cameras lens as they gazed at each other with love and adoration in their eyes, gentle smiles on their lips. What Daesung hadn’t known when he’d snapped that picture was that seconds before, Youngbae had leaned in and whispered the most beautiful words Jiyong had ever heard.

 _I love you, Kwon Jiyong_ , he’d said, _I want to raise a family with you_.

Youngbae was more than a man, in Jiyong’s eyes. He was imperfect and deeply flawed - stubborn to a fault and unable to accept change easily. But he was the one human being who Jiyong had met who hadn’t attempted to lie, or hurt, or conceal things from him. Youngbae had been nothing but honest from the moment they had met - about his sadness, about his shortcomings, about his love.

The Youngbae in that photograph - the one with smiling eyes that shone only for Jiyong and for their future together as a real family - that was the Youngbae that Jiyong knew was still there, despite all the pain and hurt that had happened between them.

It was the same Youngbae who opened the door to the bedroom.

Jiyong almost didn’t believe it, at first, chalked up the sight to his own overactive longing. But the way Youngbae wrung his hands together and chewed on his bottom lip was so shy, so honest, so very human, and Jiyong knew that the creature was buried deep inside. Kept at bay.

“I’m sorry,” Youngbae said simply, shaking his head when Jiyong motioned for him to come closer. He stayed by the door.

“You saved me,” Jiyong said. It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. An undeniable fact. Jiyong didn’t even know which time he himself was referring to.

“I said awful things - ”

“You didn’t say those things. I know it wasn’t you.”

Youngbae just sighed and shook his head. His gaze remained trained on the floor and Jiyong wanted to shake the shame out of him. Slap some sense back into his husband.

“It was _my_ mouth, it was _my_ voice. I couldn’t stop myself from saying those horrible things, but I wasn’t going to let myself hurt you.”

“So you tried to kill yourself?” Jiyong asked boldly.

“You kissed me. Do you remember that?" Youngbae changed the subject. "Even when I betrayed you, when I used all the things you’d trusted me with to hurt you. I was holding you so tight I know it must have bruised you. But you kissed me.”

The memory suddenly surfaced in Jiyong’s mind, sharp and crystal clear. The creature had been leaning in close, hissing in his ear that Jiyong would be the one to end Youngbae’s life and he still didn’t know exactly why he’d done it, why he’d looked into the creature’s eyes, but he had. And he had kissed him.

“Please come closer, Youngbae,” Jiyong begged, voice soft.

Youngbae shook his head and raised his eyes to meet Jiyong’s gaze. “You have to leave me.”

Jiyong squared his jaw. “Don’t say stupid things like that Youngbae. We can fix this.”

“I’m going crazy, Jiyong. I think and feel terrible things all the time and I try so hard to fight it, to stop myself from doing something truly awful. But it makes me so tired all the time. And it’s killing you, too.”

Jiyong shook his head stubbornly. “Bae-ah, no. No. We can get through this. It’s this house, we just have to leave the house ”

“It’s not just the house anymore, Jiyong. This isn’t going to stop if we just move away.”

“Then we’ll fight it,” Jiyong shouted, standing up from the bed on wobbly legs and making his way towards Youngbae. “We will fight it together, Bae. You and me against the world, like it’s always been. Fuck this house, fuck your parents, fuck the Korean government, fuck anything, anything, that tries to keep us apart.”

His voice became a harsh whisper by the time he reached Youngbae, who despite previous protests, grabbed Jiyong’s waist with eager hands and pulled him closer. Their foreheads rested against each other. “I’m not giving up on us, Youngbae. So please, don’t underestimate me or how I feel about you. I’m strong, too.”

Youngbae smiled tightly and pecked Jiyong’s cold lips. “I know you are, babe.”

Jiyong kissed him again, lips clashing violently as Youngbae’s mouth opened without protest, instinctively letting Jiyong shove his tongue in his mouth without preamble. They kissed furiously - teeth clanking together, sharp nips at each other’s lips, and Jiyong’s long arms wrapped around Youngbae’s shoulders tightly, preventing him from pulling away. Youngbae let out a deep moan and Jiyong gasped when he shoved his thigh between legs. He wasted no time in grinding down against Youngbae’s thigh, craving friction and heat.

He wasn’t prepared for the way Youngbae lifted him up easily - still used to the weak man who could barely walk on his own - and Jiyong almost thought that it wasn’t his Youngbae kissing him but there was too much emotion behind those kisses, sharp and biting as they were. Youngbae was desperate to kiss and Jiyong knew it was him and _only_ him, who was on top of him, caging the thinner man with his arms and legs, grinding their hips together and making them both cry out in pleasure and desire.

Jiyong lost himself in deep, passionate kisses and the exquisite rhythm of their bodies sliding together, leaving him breathless and feverish all over - like his body was alight. Youngbae stopped suddenly. He panted as he leaned back, sat on his haunches and ran his hand through his sweaty hair. 

“Fuck,” he breathed. “I can’t. I can’t do this. When I’m close to you, I just want to…”

Jiyong tried to regain his senses and his breath. He blinked rapidly up at Youngbae, whose muscles were still evident despite his weight loss. He looked different now, in the light of their room. His body was flushed with desire and his lips were lusciously pink. His skin shone again, that natural tan that used to fascinate Jiyong to no end was back. Jiyong couldn’t stop himself. He ran his slender fingers over Youngbae’s shoulders, enjoying the way the man shivered beneath his touch. “Youngbae, please don’t stop now. We haven’t done this in so long. I need you, I miss you.”

“I need you, too, babe, but we shouldn’t do this,” Youngbae answered, worrying at his bottom lip and trying not to look at Jiyong, who took the break in their passion as an opportunity to remove the rest of his clothes. “Don’t do that, Ji. Don’t get naked, I can’t - ”

“You can’t what?” Jiyong countered, locking Youngbae’s chin in his hand and forcing him to meet his eyes. “You can’t take what’s yours? You can’t fuck me until all I can do is scream your name? You can’t make me come so hard I’ll lose control?”

“Don’t talk like that,” Youngbae’s eyes flew open and his voice carried a warning. “Jiyong - ”

“Youngbae,” Jiyong interrupted fiercely. He moved to tug off Youngbae’s sweatpants but the other man caught his hand by his wrist and held it tightly. “You’re my husband and I want you to fuck me.”

Youngbae let out a trembling breath. “When I’m close to you, especially like this, I just want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Jiyong said, rising to kiss Youngbae.

Youngbae shuddered, his resolve crumbling under Jiyong’s kisses and heavy words. “How can you know?”

“I trust you.”

“It’s so hard, Jiyong,” Youngbae breathed out as Jiyong pushed his chest until he laid flat on his back. “It’s so hard to touch you and not hurt you.”

Jiyong’s eyes lit up, a flame of passion and inspiration evident. It made Youngbae’s heart skip a beat.

“Then don’t,” Jiyong said, as he placed burning kisses on Youngbae’s bare chest.

The meaning behind Jiyong’s words didn’t register until he reached into their bedside table drawer and pulled out a small bottle of lube and a pair of handcuffs that Seunghyun had once gifted them as a joke. They’d never used them but had kept them. _For a rainy day,_ Jiyong had once mirthfully joked. It didn’t seem quite so funny anymore.

He cuffed Youngbae to the headboard, intent on proving everyone, especially Youngbae, wrong. Their love was not useless, it was not defeated. It was still very much alive, swimming in their blood, evident in the way that even the memories of the hideous events that had occurred in their bed were quickly forgotten in the face of their desire. They craved one another, irrevocably so, and like all flowers lean towards the sunlight, Jiyong and Youngbae would always be pulled together.

Like gravity, Jiyong’s open-mouthed kisses and his breathy moans, his _I love yous_ whispered against trembling skin kept Youngbae grounded. The sinister whispers that constantly haunted his mind were quiet and the silence in their room was only broken by Jiyong.

Jiyong’s sharp intakes of breath. Jiyong’s hands caressing his skin wholeheartedly.

Jiyong, Jiyong, Jiyong and nothing else.

He filled up Youngbae’s mind with love and kindness and most of all, hope, and he soon found himself kissing the thin man he’d pledged his life to just as deeply, just as sincerely.

Time slowed down and sped up at the same time until Youngbae had no idea where he even was. All he could see was Jiyong’s fingers buried inside himself, his eyes fluttering shut as he prepared himself for Youngbae.

When he felt Jiyong’s heat at the tip of his achingly hard cock, Youngbae felt the darkness rising inside him. He struggled against the cuffs harshly - and Jiyong’s eyes widened in recognition.

“You won’t hurt me, Youngbae. I know you won’t,” he said, as he sunk down torturously slow onto Youngbae.

He began to move his hips in a circular motion as soon as he bottomed out, perhaps sensing that this moment was just a race against time. A race against shadows.

His hands braced against Youngbae’s chest as he rolled his hips, eyes slammed shut as he moaned Youngbae’s name like it was a mantra.

“Youngbae,” he gasped over and over again and the other man thought maybe he was trying to remind them both of what exactly was going on here. Who was loving who. “oh god, _Youngbae_.”

The darkness welled up - flooded his thoughts with images of his own hands reaching up and closing around Jiyong’s slender neck, squeezing tightly until he felt all the life drain out of him. Or perhaps just grabbing his face and twisting it around with such force that the neck snapped.

It would be so easy to give in to the thoughts, the sensations, the voices that whispered that this would be the only way to be free.

Youngbae closed his eyes, because the pleasure was pulsating deep inside, signaling that he was so close to coming apart at the seams. He turned his face and when he opened his eyes, a photograph on the bedside table caught his attention. He remembered that day, the happiest of his life thus far, and he remembered what he had felt when he held Jiyong in his arms and swayed to the music. Jiyong always let him lead.

Jiyong had reacted so beautifully to his statement at that moment, all shimmering eyes and gorgeous grin.

It had been perfect. The wedding, their relationship, their life together. Youngbae had ruined it all by being weak and looking at the man he used to be, a man so full of hope and devotion and life, should have made Youngbae collapse. It should have made it so the darkness could take over.

But it was not his own face that he focused on. It was Jiyong’s. Pale and round like the moon, smooth like silk and lit from within by a deep love meant for Youngbae. Of all the people in the world, Jiyong had chosen him.

So Youngbae didn’t give in to the darkness that night.

Somehow, in between his desire to be a better man for Jiyong and Jiyong’s unwavering belief that they could survive this test of their connection, Youngbae came undone in the most wonderful way.

He tugged at the cuffs with inhuman strength, and the wooden column the cuffs were attached to snapped in half, releasing Youngbae. Jiyong gasped and stared at him, his hips coming to a halt, and for a moment, all was still. They looked into each other’s eyes, gazes full of all the emotions they couldn’t voice, the words they couldn’t say. Youngbae licked his lips as he brought his arms down slowly, elbows at his side and he closed his hands around Jiyong’s hardened length.

Jiyong shivered and began to move his hips against, steadily building up to the rhythm they’d disrupted.

It didn’t take long for Jiyong to call out his name, loud and unhinged as he came all over Youngbae’s hands and stomach. Youngbae fucked him through it, like he knew he loved, and seconds later, spurred on by the fluttering of muscles and the tight heat, he came, too.

“See, honey,” Jiyong cooed, after they’d pulled apart and he buried himself in Youngbae’s chest. “I told you it would be alright.”

Youngbae smiled. “No one likes a know-it-all, Ji,” he teased, kissing the top of his head.

“You do, you love me,” Jiyong grinned and then yawned.

“That is true. I love you.”

“And I love you. Until the end.”

“Until the end,” Youngbae repeated, his heart warmed by hope and love.

They laid awake for a while longer, basking in the moment and in each other. They drifted off to sleep, feeling safer than they had in what felt like ages.

It felt like an enormous victory.

Still, they didn’t remove the handcuffs from Youngbae’s wrist.

Jiyong didn’t offer and Youngbae didn’t ask.

* * *

Seunghyun had slowly become accustomed to the stale silence of Jiyong and Youngbae's home. In the two weeks he’d been there, he came to almost appreciate the peculiar nature of the house, the way it seemed to distort time, the way it had a heavy emptiness that seemed to speak volumes.

There were moments where he felt his sanity slipping. Moments when he knew he’d gone downstairs for a reason but couldn’t recall why when he reached the foot of the stairs. Moments where he swore he put his cup of coffee down in the living room but found it on the kitchen counter, steaming and mocking.

It was only the husky voice at the other end of this cellphone that could soothe his worries. Reassurances that it was just his imagination and there was no such thing as the supernatural whispered from across the globe. They meant the world to him, they held such significance and weight; they made the emptiness bearable.

So Seunghyun had become used to the silence every morning, the pattern only altered when he awoke to Jiyong’s soft sobs.

Which is why he was suddenly on high alert when he awoke to the sounds of laughter.

He padded slowly towards the kitchen, unsure of what could possibly be happening, and the sight he was met with when he reached the opening to the kitchen made him freeze in his steps.

Youngbae stood at the stove, something yellow and delicious-smelling simmering in the pan he held while Jiyong stood by the toaster, recounting some strange dream he’d had. Youngbae laughed at all the right moments and left his position by the stove to stand closer to Jiyong, grab his hips playfully as he planted a long kiss on Jiyong’s unexpecting mouth.

“Do you ever shut up?” Youngbae teased and Jiyong only laughed and wrapped his arms around his neck.

“Have you met me?” he responded lightheartedly, kissing Youngbae before his eyes shifted to the pan the other man had left and a little frown crossed his face.

“You know I hate scrambled eggs, Bae-ah,” he slapped at Youngbae’s behind lightly. “You lied to me. I thought you were making them over-easy.”

Youngbae giggled as he brought their bodies flush together. “I told you I was making what was easy for me. Which is scrambled.”

He kissed Jiyong’s neck, a little too sloppy to be innocent, and the way the other man melted into his touch made Seunghyun suddenly aware of where this was going. He felt uncomfortable and beyond confused as to what the hell was happening.

He cleared his throat and the two men pulled apart quickly, faces flushed like embarrassed teenagers. Seunghyun would have found it cute if it wasn’t so surreal.

“You’re looking much better,” Seunghyun said to Youngbae, who was shutting off the stove and looking for a plate for the eggs.

“Thank you, _hyung_. I feel a lot better,” Youngbae responded nervously when he noticed the way Seunghyun's eyes fell to the ring of bruises on his wrists.

“Jiyong, can I have a word?”

Jiyong followed him out to the hallway, a smile still playing upon his lips.

Seunghyun hated to destroy it. “What the fuck, Ji?”

Jiyong’s face fell. “What?”

“What do you mean 'what'? Last night, I find the damn guy almost drowning in a pond and you passed out for hours and this morning everything’s all hunky-dory? What happened to him not being about to stand on his own for more than a few minutes? What happened to you and your theories about a monster? What’s going on?”

Jiyong sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know. I think things are going to be better from here on out. We talked last night.”

Seunghyun couldn’t mistake the slight blush on Jiyong’s cheeks. “You talked?” he said, eyebrow raised incredulously.

Jiyong rolled his eyes. “Yes. And other things…”

“Did he force himself on you again?” Seunghyun hissed, a red rage gripping his heart.

“No,” Jiyong quickly protested. “No, nothing like before. He didn’t do anything I didn’t want him to.”

“So you fucked and now it’s all over?”

Jiyong’s eyes dimmed. “I don’t know, okay? I don’t know what’s happening. All I know is that last night, he touched me and it was all him. I felt him there with me the whole time and it was just like before. Even better. This morning when I woke up, he was already downstairs, whistling and making breakfast.”

Seunghyun frowned. “This is fucking weird.”

“I know it’s weird!” Jiyong exclaimed before lowering his voice again. “Look, maybe the dip in the pond did something. Maybe he got it out of him. Maybe it’s all over.”

“Jiyong - ”

“Look, even if it isn’t,” Jiyong interrupted, his voice desperate. “Even if it’s not over, can you just let me have this? Let me enjoy him being like this. I don’t know how long it’s going to last.”

Seunghyun looked into Jiyong’s eyes, the panic and worry reflected so clearly in their almond shape. He loved his friend, dearly, and maybe the best thing to do at this moment was to let him live in his fantasy for a little longer.

“Okay,” Seunghyun sighed out, not feeling truly comfortable with the idea. He’d never been one to pretend that nothing was wrong.

The way Jiyong beamed at him, gummy smile and crescent eyes shining at him, tugged at Seunghyun’s heartstrings. He nodded and followed Jiyong back to the kitchen, back to the illusion.

Youngbae and Jiyong were so tender that morning and Seunghyun would always remember that it was seeing them together like this - playfully teasing and wholly affectionate without being offensive or distracting - that made him realize his own heart. It was their love that had highlighted the loneliness in his life and though it at times made him incredibly jealous, it mostly made him glad.

Jiyong had always deserved this kind of love and Seunghyun was happy that it was a good man like Youngbae that had been able to give it to him.

So Seunghyun found it easy to give in to the dream. He thought of the voice that had kept him sane so far and he began to wonder.

* * *

It lasted for three days.

Until Tablo and Haru arrived.

Youngbae paced around the living room nervously, knowing that their taxi would soon be pulling up and Jiyong tried to soothe him with kisses and sweet words.

“What are you so worried about?” Jiyong cooed between kisses to Youngbae’s forehead. “You should be excited.”

“I know, I know,” Youngbae said, his voice quieter than usual. “I’m just really anxious. I think I’m going to go upstairs and lie down.”

He quickly made his way up the steps and continued his nervous pacing in their bedroom. He usually felt safe in this space, but fretting over his _hyung_ and niece’s arrival was tearing Youngbae apart. He bit his nails as he walked around the room. He’d had a long respite from the voices and the darkness, but he was still cautious, still afraid to put too much belief in this small happiness.

He still worked hard to keep himself in check, even if the urges were less severe and easier to control. He couldn’t let his guard down, not for a single moment. It was the only way to keep Jiyong safe.

Still, the relative peace did much to lift his spirits and he did hope, prudently, that he had broken through. That the nightmare had come to an end.

The sound of the front door opening and warm greetings shook Youngbae out of his thoughts. His heart suddenly filled with a need to see his beloved niece, to hold her in his arms, so he rushed out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

“Youngbae,” Tablo greeted with a huge grin.

Haru turned in Jiyong’s arms (he was crouched on the ground to embrace her) and her eyes met Youngbae’s.

A beat passed.

A single moment that held all the hope that Youngbae had left.

A second where it truly seemed like everything was going to be alright. That it, in fact, already was. 

It had just been a moment.

And then little Haru’s eyes widened like saucers and she let out an ear-splitting, terrified scream.

In a single moment, Youngbae’s hopes had been completely shattered.

* * *

Jiyong found himself once again going to Seungri for help.

They’d exchanged phone numbers at the library and after the debacle of Haru’s visit, Jiyong was once again on the hunt for a solution to their problems.

It wasn’t over.

It wasn’t over because little Haru refused to go near Youngbae and the few attempts he made to talk to her were met with panicked screams of _uncle is dead, youngbae-oppa is dead_.

Youngbae deflated. He still had more strength than before, but he refused to sleep near anyone, condemning himself to a cot in the cold of the basement. Even on the nights he was brave enough to let Jiyong kiss him and make love to him, he still rose from the bed after the deed, after loving whispers and painful kisses, bid Jiyong goodnight and walked out of the room no matter how much Jiyong protested.

Youngbae wouldn’t hear it.

“It’s better this way,” he’d say by way of explanation and Jiyong just wanted him back. He’d had him for a few precious days and now he was in too deep.

Too deep in love to even consider leaving.

So he called Seungri and begged for more information, spilling the secrets of their marriage and the haunting over telephone lines. Seungri said he might know someone who could help.

Madame Zade, the palm reading psychic, was not what Jiyong had in mind.

“I thought you said you knew someone who could help. _Really_ help,” Jiyong couldn’t help the distrusting tone in his voice.

“Zade is real, man,” Seungri responded acidly. “She predicted like three of my break-ups.”

Jiyong rolled his eyes and knocked on the front door. The door opened quickly and in the doorway stood a decadent, dark-skinned woman with eyes that pierced through Jiyong, pinning him with their meaningful stare.

She shook her head and tsked as she grabbed at his face without asking for permission. Her touch was sure.

“Oh lord,” she said, her accent colored by a hint of the south. “This is worse than I thought. You’ve got darkness all over you.”

She brushed his face gently as if taking off invisible dirt stains. She focused on his mouth before her eyes widened.

“You’ve been kissing someone who’s covered in it. This darkness isn’t yours.”

Jiyong’s heart pounded in his chest and all his previous skepticism flew out of his mind. “It’s my husband. Something’s inside him.”

“And it’s strong, too, I can see that. The way it’s just coming off him, shedding. I’m surprised your man is still alive."

Jiyong gasped. “He’s strong. He’s so strong. But we can’t beat it. We can’t fight it on our own, we need - ”

“Darlings, come inside,” she said. “Have yourselves some tea and you,” she looked into Jiyong’s eyes again. “You try to calm yourself.”

She led them through her apartment. It was colorful and warm, Jiyong felt safe in the bright colors and eclectic hodgepodge of decorations. It smelled of oranges and something spicy. It felt like a real home.

Madame Zade left them in the living room on the couch while she poured them cups of tea. Seungri looked over at Jiyong and sensing his inner gloom, he held onto his hand. The gesture made affection bloom in Jiyong’s chest. Seungri had no reason to help him, to even believe him, yet here he was, offering up his friendship and loyalty without demanding anything in return. _What a wonderful person_ , Jiyong thought, squeezing his hand and letting some of the tension leave his body.

When Madame Zade returned, she carried a large tray that Seungri quickly stood up to help her handle. Only once it was lowered onto the table did she speak again.

“How long?” she asked.

“We moved to the house at the beginning of the summer. It’s the one on Weeping Willow Lane, where all the murders happened.”

“I know the one. I’m surprised it hasn’t taken you yet.”

“You mean the creature.”

Madame Zade barked out a laugh. “It’s no creature. It’s something even darker. That house has been doomed since it was built. There has been nothing but pain and suffering and death in that place for decades. People aren’t the only ones affected by tragedy.”

Jiyong frowned, struggling to keep up. “I don’t understand.”

“Boy, the darkness isn’t a being. It’s powerful, sure, much stronger than you can imagine. But it’s not a ghost or a demon. That house has borne witness to such horrors that it’s been changed. It’s seeping with darkness and sadness and now your man is its latest victim.”

“What’s it gonna do?” Seungri asked, elbows on his knees as he paid close attention.

“This world is made of patterns,” Madame Zade intoned. “And you boys have fallen into a most gruesome one indeed.”

“So you’re saying that it’s a cycle. So won’t it stop if we just leave the house?”

Madame Zade’s eyes bore into Jiyong’s for a long moment, as if she was looking deep into his heart and mind. He tried to open himself to her and she smiled in recognition.

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

Jiyong huffed out an exasperated sigh and ran his hands through his hair. “What are we supposed to do? How do we stop the cycle?”

“You know the answer to that, too, Jiyong.”

Jiyong’s eyes widened. He’d never told her his name.

“Go on, now,” she smiled, shooing the two men away like they were stray cats. “Your man will be worried soon and Mr. Lee here is already twenty minutes late in meeting the love of his life. You boys need to go.”

“Wait,” Jiyong shouted, as Seungri rushed out the door, leaving him alone with Madame Zade. “You’re wrong, I don’t know. Please tell me what I should do.”

Her eyes softened as she stared at his face and cupped his face gently. “Go to him. Stay with him, if you can. But be prepared.”

Jiyong sucked in a sharp breath. “For what?” he asked, but deep down, he knew.

When Madade Zade responded, her eyes were melancholy and full of sympathy.

“To bleed.”

* * *

Jiyong sat on the front porch.

The night sky hung low, littered with the sparkle of stars across the velvety blackness. Jiyong stared at the vastness of the universe and tried to find comfort in how small it made him and his problems feel. Maybe somewhere else in the universe, maybe even on this planet, there were two other beings that loved each other as strongly and completely as Jiyong and Youngbae. Maybe their love was flourishing like springtime blossoms, not dying like his own.

Despite Madame Zade’s words, Jiyong had no idea what he could do to save Youngbae. She had been too vague.

When he thought it was a creature, Jiyong had truly felt like he could take it on, he could destroy it. But now that he knew that it was a force much more potent, Jiyong felt like he was back at square one. No hope.

Youngbae’s words when the darkness had taken control of him repeated in Jiyong’s mind.

_I’m not going to destroy him, Jiyong. You are._

Maybe he was right. Maybe the only way to save Youngbae was to separate forever, take away the temptation his husband felt by simply not being close.

A life without Youngbae. Without his heart.

Jiyong had once thought it was impossible. But maybe there was simply no other way. The sadness that filled his heart was overwhelming. Tears stung at his eyes.

When the screen door slammed and Jiyong barely had time to compose himself before a cold beer was being pressed into his hand and Tablo was sitting down next to him on the wooden steps.

“Your tall friend is surprisingly good with kids,” Tablo said matter-of-factly.

“That’s because he still is one,” Jiyong tried to joke but his words came out hollow and Tablo didn’t laugh.

“What’s going on with you two? I haven’t seen Youngbae this depressed in ages and you’re on the verge of tears. Talk to me.”

“I don’t even know if it’s real,” Jiyong breathed out after taking a long gulp of beer. “Everything’s fucked up.”

Tablo took a long swig of his own beer before speaking. “Do you think it’s something that can be fixed?”

“I want it to be,” Jiyong responded, voice low. “God, I want to fix it so badly. It’s just…”

“It’s just what?” Tablo prompted. His eyes were full of honest concern and it made Jiyong feel a little more secure.

“What if being with the person you love most actually hurts them?”

“You mean like if the relationship is unhealthy?”

“No,” Jiyong responded shaking his head as he took another sip of beer. “Like there’s something bigger than you, a force or a fate. Like it’s your destiny to hurt each other.”

Tablo smiled wisely. “You’re asking the wrong person, Jiyong. I don’t believe in destiny. Destiny is what said that my wife was infertile and we’ve all seen living proof of just how wrong that determination was.”

Jiyong smiled, recalling the way Youngbae always called Haru a little miracle when he was feeling especially mushy.

“That’s different, _hyung_.”

“So out with it, stop speaking in code and tell me what is going on in your head.”

“I think I’m going to be the reason he dies.”

Tablo stared at him, mouth agape. His eyes blinked quickly, like he was trying to make sense of Jiyong’s seemingly ridiculous statement. Jiyong fought back tears again. He thought admitting it out loud would ease the burden but it only made his heart heavier.

“Jiyong,” Tablo’s voice was soft and kind as his hand settled on Jiyong’s shoulder. “I don’t know why you think this, but I’m going to tell you something and it is the absolute truth, so you have to really hear it.”

Jiyong nodded weakly.

“That boy wasn’t _alive_ before he met you.”

Jiyong’s eyes snapped up and he met Tablo’s open gaze. “I’ve seen him move through life like he was just half-way there. Like he was some sort of ghost. I met the real Youngbae the day he rushed home to tell me about the man he’d met at a bar. The one that had changed his life in one night. The one who he _knew_ he was going to spend the rest of his life with.”

Jiyong’s eyes filled with the tears he’d been holding back and he let them fall. He stopped holding back and Tablo, like all good fathers, knew exactly what to do. He held Jiyong in his arms as he bawled his eyes out, not saying a single word, just letting him be.

When Jiyong’s sobs subsided and he ran out of tears, Tablo pulled Jiyong’s head to rest on his shoulder.

“I don’t know what kind of problems you guys are having or what exactly is going on,” Tablo spoke after a long silence. “I don’t know if you’re going to be the reason for his death.”

Jiyong sighed and scratched absently at the wood of the steps.

“What I do know is that you are the reason that he lives. And that, to me at least, is far more important.”

Jiyong didn’t respond but his mind felt more at ease. His heavy heart seemed lighter and as he stared up at the night sky and into the blackness beyond, Jiyong thought that not all darknesses are sinister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On another note, this chapter and Madame Zade's words in particular, were inspired by the song A Case of You by Joni Mitchell and hauntingly covered by James Blake.


	7. Part VI: The End

Hope is the frailest of all emotions.

Jiyong had always known this. He’d known it in a theoretical sense - in the way that those who have never truly suffered know that life is hard. Hope dies. An inevitable fact of life. It happens.

But for Jiyong, until very recently, it was something that happened to other people.

At no point in his twenty-seven years of life did Jiyong ever suspect that there would come a day where his hope would die. It had never crossed Jiyong’s mind that he’d see it trampled underneath his beloved’s heels.

Three days after visiting Madame Zade with Seungri, Jiyong walked into his bedroom to find it in a disarray. Clothes and large boxes were scattered about the space and the photographs of Youngbae and Jiyong’s life together had disappeared from the walls and the bedside table. Youngbae stood by the bed, back turned to Jiyong, as he packed a large suitcase.

Jiyong frowned, bewildered. “What are you doing?”

Youngbae flinched at the accusing tone in Jiyong’s voice. He turned slowly.

“Babe - ”

“Don’t ‘babe’ me, Dong Youngbae. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Youngbae sighed. “Please, don’t raise your voice.”

Jiyong ran his hand through his hair desperately. “Then explain why all your clothes are in boxes. Why are all our pictures gone? Tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

Youngbae seemed to sense the fragile tension of the moment. One more drop and the water would spill. When he spoke, the words were careful and slow. “The boxes aren’t for me. They’re for you. I want you to leave with Seunghyun at the end of the week. I think it’s what’s best.”

Jiyong tried to contain his anger, he could feel the darkness rising in his throat and the shadows clouded his vision. Youngbae was a soft blur, coming in and out of focus. Jiyong didn’t feel fear at the sight of him. He felt enraged.

“Are you fucking kidding me? That’s it? You just want to give up?”

Youngbae’s eyes widened and a flicker of hurt flashed across his dark eyes. “I won’t hurt you again, Jiyong.”

“You think leaving me isn’t hurting me?” Jiyong hissed. His head ached and his heart pounded as he tightened his hands into fists.

“I wish there was another way. I thought it was over, but it’s not. We both know it’s not. It’s getting harder and harder to keep you safe from me.”

“Fuck you,” Jiyong snarled as he rushed over to the boxes and began to pull out the clothes that Youngbae had so neatly packed.

Youngbae stepped back, arms folded, eyes dim. Jiyong tried not to look at him, tried not to be moved by his patience.

“This is my home,” Jiyong breathed out after a few minutes, unable to tell whether his blurring vision was still caused by the shadows or his own tears. “ _You_ are my home. I’m not leaving.”

Youngbae only sighed and looked at Jiyong with melancholy eyes.

“Don’t you love me anymore?” Jiyong shouted as he collapsed onto the floor by the bed. Youngbae ran to wrap his arms around him, tightly.

They could have been there for hours, or just a few minutes. Time dragged and lost all meaning as Youngbae held his sobbing husband in his hands and broke his heart.

Youngbae’s breath ghosted over Jiyong’s skin as he spoke. His voice was tight - straining with the heaviness of his words. “I love you more than I love myself, Jiyong. Until the end. That’s why you have to do this. I want you to be safe and happy somewhere far, far away from me.”

“How can you say that you love me in the same breath that you say that you want me to leave? I don’t understand you, Youngbae. Why are you doing this to us?”

Youngbae’s arms tightened their hold on Jiyong’s thin frame. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold out. I’m so sorry.”

Jiyong jerked suddenly out of Youngbae’s hold. Both men stood slowly, eyes locked. Jiyong’s burned with fury and Youngbae’s shimmered with guilt and pain.

" You’re sorry?" Jiyong shook his head. “So that’s it, then? Seven years of our lives just flushed down the fucking drain because you just don’t want to try anymore?”

Youngbae’s eyes narrowed as he squared his jaw. “I’m doing the best I can. I’m trying harder than I’ve ever tried for anything in my life. This isn’t a fucking game, Jiyong.”

Jiyong stepped back as Youngbae stepped close and closer. Jiyong’s back hit the wall and with Youngbae’s body pressed so close, it should have been easy to reach out and kiss the anger from his lips.

“Do you know what I want to do to you?” Youngbae hissed. “Do you know that I dream about snapping your neck with my hands, putting a bullet through your skull? Watching the blood drain from your body? Do you know that’s the only time the voices get quiet? When I let myself think about…”

Jiyong gulped. “You wouldn’t.”

“Aren’t you scared of me, Jiyong?”

_Yes._

The answer was yes. Jiyong feared Youngbae and his darkness and the way it seemed to be contagious. The way Jiyong could feel the anger permeating everything in their room and the house and it would soon drown their hearts.

“No,” Jiyong lied. Because it was still the lie he wanted to believe more than anything.

Youngbae’s eyes softened. “Jiyong, this is all we can do. I tried.”

Jiyong shook his head as he barked out a humorless laugh. “Not hard enough, Bae-ah.”

He pushed Youngbae away from him and didn’t look back.

Jiyong strode out of the room and slammed the door behind him. Hard.

In the hallway, little Haru stood alone. She clutched her favorite stuffed animal in her arms, a unicorn that Youngbae had gifted her before his departure. Her eyes were wide and a slight frown graced her features.

Jiyong felt guilt flooding his senses at the expression of utter confusion on her small face. She’d never seen or heard Jiyong and Youngbae fight before. Hell, they hardly ever fought.

He was too tired and overwhelmed to try to comfort Haru. He simply walked away.

* * *

The day that Tablo and Haru left was a melancholy one. The sky was dull and gray; heavy clouds threatened to burst at any moment as Jiyong and Seunghyun helped Tablo load his luggage into the taxi cab’s trunk.

Youngbae didn’t come out of the house.

Tablo insisted that it wasn’t a big deal, that he’d already said his goodbyes, but it made Jiyong furious. Especially since he could see the sadness in Haru’s eyes as she held her unicorn tightly in her arms.

“You take care, Jiyong,” Tablo said as he embraced Jiyong. “Remember what I told you.”

Jiyong nodded, tried to keep his face placid. “Yes, _hyung_.”

“And please take care of him,” Tablo said, eyes boring into Jiyong’s with an intensity that betrayed the lightness in his tone. “He’ll take on the weight of the world if you let him, but he needs you.”

Jiyong only nodded but he couldn’t find it in himself to speak. Tablo and Haru got into the back of the cab and just before the cab drove off, the little girl called out.

“Uncle Jiyong, wait!”

Jiyong stepped up to the car door as Tablo rolled down the window and Haru leaned up to the window.

“You have to remind Youngbae-oppa. He forgot and you’re the only one.”

“The only one that what, Haru?” Jiyong tried to play along with a smile but he didn’t understand the little girl’s words and worry clouded his mind.

She shook her head and leaned up to whisper in Jiyong’s ear. Jiyong’s eyes widened.

The taxi cab drove off and Jiyong was left alone with his bewilderment as Seunghyun disappeared into the house.

Jiyong frowned and turned to face his house. What had once been his dream come true was now just a living nightmare. Youngbae’s face in the bedroom window was faded and it didn’t melt the anger in Jiyong’s heart.

It made him even more furious.

  
  


* * *

Rage.

Mind-numbing, blood-boiling rage.

It was all that Jiyong could feel.

The shadows in his eyes now covered everything. His eyesight was a hazy, opaque blur, causing him to bump into every corner of every desk and table in their home. Movement frightened him - he nearly shouted every time Seunghyun stood up too quickly for his liking.

Everything startled him.

Everything made him afraid. And _that_ only made him angrier.

Jiyong was livid with himself for being so scared, with Seunghyun for agreeing to Youngbae’s plan without even talking to him about it first.

And most of all, with his husband.

Youngbae, who had given up on their love and their marriage, with no regard to how Jiyong would feel about it.

Youngbae, the man who had stolen his heart with a shy smile and who had tricked him into believing that he could be strong enough for him - strong enough for _them_.

He had violated him.

He had fantasized about killing him.

Youngbae was nothing but a weak, small man who knew nothing about love. Weak and stupid and a goddamn waste of seven years.

A waste of a life.

Youngbae had ruined everything, _everything_ , that fucking ungrateful bastard - 

“Friday. Just wait until Friday, okay?”

Seunghyun’s hushed voice shook Jiyong out of his downward spiral. The thin man shook his head, clearing away confusing thoughts that had been building without his permission. It was unlike him to think on such selfish, horrid terms and if he’d been in the right state of mind, he would have recognized the danger right away. Instead, a new betrayal bloomed in his mind, giving him another reason to be angry.

He walked towards the sound of Seunghyun.

Another secret phone call.

Jiyong frowned as he approached the opened doorway to the guest bedroom, his steps slow and quiet.

“Who are you talking to?” Jiyong asked suddenly, taking a perverse pleasure in the way Seunghyun jumped at the sound of his voice.

“Jesus Christ,” Seunghyun gasped. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“You don’t fucking know what scared is,” Jiyong muttered under his breath as he slowly made his way into the room, his fingers gripping the furniture to steady himself as he made his way closer to Seunghyun.

“What the fuck is your problem, Ji?”

“What’s yours?” Jiyong’s voice rose. “Why can’t you fucking tell me who you’re talking to?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” Jiyong laughed. “Fuck you. It’s a fucking psychiatrist, isn’t it? You think we’re fucking crazy and you want to lock us up.”

Despite his blurred and darkened vision, Jiyong could still see the hurt etched onto his friend’s face.

“Is that what you think? You think I’d do that to you?”

“What do you want me to think?” Jiyong shouted. “You’re just going to fuck me over, like everyone else I’ve ever believed in. Like Youngbae - ”

“It’s Daesung,” Seunghyun interrupted. “I’m only talking to Daesung.”

“What?”

Seunghyun ran his hand through his hair nervously. “I’ve been talking to Daesung every night.”

“Why couldn’t you just tell me that?” Jiyong blinked rapidly, his anger easing as he tried to put the pieces together.

Seunghyun’s eyes darted around, anxious in a way Jiyong had never seen from him. “Because I’m not talking to him like our friend, I’m...we’re...it’s different now.”

Jiyong’s face must have shown his confusion because Seunghyun continued to try to explain. “I’m _talking_ to Daesung.”

“Are you fucking?”

“God no,” Seunghyun laughed throatily. “No, not yet. I want that, don’t get me wrong. I just also want, you know, more.”

“More?”

Seunghyun smiled. “Yeah, more. Like you and Mr. Perfect. I want the whole fucking thing. The crazy and the painful and the absolutely unreasonable. I want to love him that way. Fuck, I think I already do. And I want to go back home and really try with him.”

Jiyong smiled for the first time in days. A memory struck him, long-buried under darkness and fear. Suddenly, Jiyong remembered when Seunghyun had injured his ankle on their ski trip, Daesung had stayed up with him almost every night, massaging his foot and laughing at his dumb jokes like they were actually funny. He recalled stumbling upon the two men one night when he was bound for the kitchen and how the two figures huddled together by the fireplace and speaking in hushed tones had reminded Jiyong how badly he wanted to go back upstairs and into Youngbae’s arms.

How could Jiyong have missed it? How perfect Daesung and Seunghyun were for each other.

“I’m happy for you, Seunghyun,” Jiyong said as the darkness cleared a bit and his eyes filled with tears instead of shadows. He moved to sit next to Seunghyun on the bed.

“Thank you,” Seunghyun smiled as he put his hand around Jiyong’s shoulder. “But why are you crying?”

“I’m happy that you’ve found your love. And I really hope, with all my heart, that it works out better for you than it has for me.”

“What are you talking about, Ji? You guys are going to get through this. You just need to come home.”

“No, it’s over. Youngbae’s given up on us.”

“You don’t know that - ”

“It’s true. He packed my bags. Our whole room is in boxes. He says he wants me to leave, that it’s too hard for him to be around me. It’s really over.”

Seunghyun shook his head and brought his hands around Jiyong’s face, cupping his face gently. “Jiyong, that can’t possibly be true.”

“I know, I can’t believe it, either. We fought yesterday. In our bedroom.”

Seunghyun eyes flickered with an emotion that Jiyong couldn’t decipher. Not with the shadows clouding everything in his vision. “No, Ji, I mean that it’s not _possible_. Youngbae has been in the basement for almost a week. He hasn’t come upstairs.”

Jiyong’s stomach bottomed out as the truth came crashing down all around him the way an ancient cave collapses.

He remembered clearly how a week ago, Youngbae had locked himself in the basement, arguing with Jiyong that it was the only way to keep everyone in the house safe. He recalled him and Tablo knocking wildly on the locked door only to be met with Youngbae’s stubborn calm.

“Just leave me in here,” he had said and Seunghyun had convinced the other men that perhaps Youngbae only needed some space and time alone.

The day before, Haru had stared at Jiyong like he was insane because he was.

Youngbae had never been in the bedroom.

* * *

The basement reeked of death.

The air was stale and overwhelmingly cold and there was an unbroken silence that permeated everything, even Jiyong’s heart.

Seunghyun had taken the car and run into town to buy groceries and Jiyong had taken the opportunity to go into the basement alone. Ever since Seunghyun revealed what Jiyong had always known, the younger man was desperate to see his husband and try to make sense of what was happening to the both of them.

With his fingers tightly gripping the wooden railing of the stairs, Jiyong slowly padded down into the basement, heartbeat racing.

 _This darkness isn’t yours_ , Madame Zade had said but she was wrong. Everything that belonged to Youngbae belonged to Jiyong, too. Even his madness.

The shadows blurred everything around him and even with the silence blotting out all signs of life, Jiyong could feel that there was another presence in the room with him. He hoped against hope that it was Youngbae.

The rage and the shadows had been obscuring Jiyong’s judgment. For far too long, he had been unable to differentiate the lies from the truth; the dreams from the nightmares. He’d blamed himself, and then Youngbae, and then the horrid evil living in the house and now, with the chilled, dry air permeating his soft skin, Jiyong began to realize something.

It didn’t matter.

He could drive himself insane trying to figure out who was to blame and what exactly was going on in the house and none of that would make the situation better.

Jiyong walked around the basement in search of his love. His hands reached out to touch all the objects that used to belong to the people that came before him. The families and the lovers; the children and their unfulfilled futures. A baseball glove - perhaps belonging to a little boy who never got the chance to practice. A decorated mirror that might have been a mother’s one expensive object. There was so much unlived life in this room and the realization brought Jiyong to his knees.

And it was then that he spotted the darkest corner of the basement.

There was a small blanket laid out on the floor and a pair of broken handcuffs by a pipe.

Jiyong recognized those handcuffs, and as realization bloomed in his mind, his body crawled towards the blanket. He struggled not to shed tears as each movement brought him closer and closer to a familiar unknown.

And this is where the story could have ended.

Youngbae was clearly gone - the remnants of his existence scattered sloppily about a putrid basement in a country an ocean away from where he was born. Jiyong could have easily broken down completely and given into despair. Seunghyun could have returned home to find Jiyong sobbing in the darkness, completely and utterly alone. Or perhaps worse.

It could have ended here, in this awful moment.

Except that something caught Jiyong’s eye.

There was a cardboard box lying next to the blanket. Jiyong’s eyes narrowed as he opened it and he gasped when he saw the contents.

Every single photograph that had once graced Jiyong and Youngbae’s bedroom was in that box. And in an instant, Jiyong’s vision cleared to an almost inhuman sharpness as his eyes took in the evidence of Youngbae’s fingertips imprinted softly on the glass of the frames. The pattern moved back and forth as if Youngbae had been lovingly stroking Jiyong’s face in each photograph. In the photograph of their wedding day, Jiyong could see the tell-tale signs of Youngbae’s lips marked on the space where Jiyong’s face had been smiling.

 _You’re the only one that can let in the light_ was what little Haru had whispered in Jiyong’s ear the day that she had left and Jiyong knew that it was true.

But there was more to it. Youngbae was also the only one who could light up Jiyong’s world.

In the same way that supernovas inevitably explode and the wolf always looks towards the forest, Jiyong and Youngbae were always each other’s only choice. There was never another way for their love to end, because it wouldn’t.

Jiyong wouldn’t let it.

He laid with his back against the brick wall, the picture of their wedding day cradled in his arms, and he laughed as he mourned.

Yes, Jiyong had always known and now he knew that so did Youngbae.

The sun would always rise and Jiyong would never let Youngbae go.

He had to show him how to let the light in again, how to fight the darkness that had attacked his soul like a cancer.

And now, Jiyong knew how.

The simplicity of it all almost knocked the breath out of him.

Love him. All Jiyong had to do was love Youngbae, completely and without any regrets, let the other man do the same.

Love was the only answer. Hadn’t it always been?

Love in its simplest and purest form. The way Youngbae always kissed Jiyong goodnight, the way he didn’t mind using the same toothbrush when inevitably forgot Jiyong to pack his own on their small trips, the way he always made a couple of sunny side up eggs for breakfast because he knew Jiyong hated them scrambled.

Love and all its infinite little wonders.

Youngbae adored Jiyong to death and Jiyong knew that he felt the exact same way.

Jiyong sighed, hand in his pocket as he clutched a wrinkled letter from the adoption agency, and he found a reason to smile through the fear.

It would all be over soon.

* * *

Jiyong’s heart raced with both elation and fear. He ran up the steps from the basement, his eyesight clearer than it had even been. In his mind, beautiful memories of his life with Youngbae flashed like film projections upon a blank wall.

His life had been perfect. And it would be again.

He didn’t expect, however, that once he’d opened the door to the first floor of the house, he’d be met with the sounds of rain and thunder. He also didn’t expect the electricity to cut out suddenly after a particularly loud thunderclap.

A soft sigh - the barest whisper of his name - made Jiyong turn to face the front door. There stood Youngbae.

His outline was dark against the flashes of light and Jiyong couldn’t see his features. He was a shadow - perhaps finally swallowed whole by the darkness within. But Jiyong didn’t feel afraid. He felt invincible, and he strode closer to Youngbae with confidence.

Upon reaching the shadowed man, Jiyong did the most natural thing he could think of. He embraced him. He wrapped his thin arms around Youngbae’s stockier build, ignoring the way the smaller man didn’t respond. Jiyong held him so tightly that he could feel the other man’s heartbeat.

“Aren’t you scared of me?” Youngbae’s voice was hoarse and delicate, like he was afraid of Jiyong’s answer.

Jiyong pulled his face back and searched for Youngbae’s bright eyes in the dark. He carded his slender fingers through Youngbae’s short hair.

“No,” Jiyong whispered, just as a flash of lightning lit up the entire house. In that millisecond, Youngbae’s eyes lost their brightness.

“You should be,” the darkness whispered, a sinister deep rumble that sounded foreign coming out of Youngbae’s mouth.

And then it all went black.

* * *

Jiyong awoke to the sensation of pain.

His eyes snapped open and his arms reached up to try and undo the tight grip Youngbae had on his hair.

It’s stopped raining, Jiyong thought uselessly as his body was dragged from the house, each bounce bruising his pale skin.

“Youngbae-ah,” Jiyong shouted as he began kicking wildly. “Stop this!”

Youngbae didn’t answer. His fist squeezed tighter.

Jiyong panicked as he flailed and flailed in an attempt to shake Youngbae loose. There were no shadows in his eyesight, but his heart was filled with dread as he realized that Youngbae was dragging him to the pond.

Jiyong didn’t need to wonder why.

“Please, Youngbae, I know you’re in there. You don’t want to do this.”

Youngbae didn’t even seem to hear him.

“Youngbae, please. I know you. I’m the only one that knows about the boy in the church choir who kissed you and that you cried for weeks after Michael Jackson died. I know that you wanted to be a singer but your parents told you it was a stupid dream and it broke your heart. I know that you’re scared of heights and that you hate when people make you smile in pictures. I know that you’ve loved me since you saw me and I have loved you, too. You’re still in there, and I’m not giving up on you. I’ll never give up on you. Even if you do.”

They had reached the edge of the pond by the time Jiyong had finished and when Youngbae let go of his hair, Jiyong gasped for breath. Youngbae’s features twisted, as if a sharp sudden hurt overwhelmed him. He clutched at his head and grunted inhumanly as his body crumpled to the ground in front of Jiyong.

Jiyong sat in the grass, the cool breeze seemed to mock the crazed beating of his heart and the horror that lay before him.

_Go to him._

Youngbae stopped writhing on the ground for one moment. He got up to his knees and stared into Jiyong’s eyes. A flash of Youngbae’s true self shone through his sincere eyes, but just as quickly, it was replaced by a dark fury. He reached out and grabbed onto Jiyong.

In the ensuing struggle, both men rolled into the water. Jiyong gasped as the freezing temperature of the water surrounded him. He was no match for Youngbae’s stronger body and even as he fought, he felt his life draining out of him. Jiyong surged up, trying to reach the surface, desperate for air, but Youngbae’s hands held him down.

Jiyong managed to slip out of Youngbae’s tight grasp and when he broke the surface of the water, he sucked in large gulps of much-needed air. He trembled from the cold and the adrenaline but his heart sank as he realized he was only further in the water and Youngbae was swimming quickly towards him.

“Her name means light.”

Youngbae stopped his mad rush to reach Jiyong, as if physically held back.

Jiyong continued speaking. “Her name is Luz and her parents died in a car accident. She’s from a small town Mexico and her skin is tawny brown, the same color as yours in the summer.”

Youngbae continued his approach, only this time, his movements were languid and each stroke his arms made through the water seemed to hurt.

“Her name is Luz, and the nuns in the orphanage say that she almost never cries and they think it’s because she’s too strong but I think it’s because she knows. She knows that we’re coming for her.”

Youngbae finally reached Jiyong and they both waded in the water, ripples of their movements stretching out around them like traces of time. Neither man dared to move closer. Or away.

_Stay with him if you can._

Jiyong gathered up his courage and took a final, deep breath. “Her name is Luz, she’s two years old and even though she was born thousands of miles away from us, she has your smile and she’s ours.”

“You’re lying,” Youngbae spat out, his voice less strange, less deep.

“I got a letter from the agency two days ago. Her name is Luz.”

_But be prepared to bleed._

Youngbae had once been willing to die a watery, gruesome death in order to save his beloved. And even now, Jiyong could see the battle raging inside, the sweet man that he loved so dearly trying - and failing - to break free of his demons. And Jiyong knew how to let in the light.

“If this is what you need to do to be free, just do it,” Jiyong said as he swam closer to Youngbae. “I’ll love you. Until the end.”

When Youngbae reached out and pushed his head under the water, time slowed to a steady crawl for Jiyong. His lungs burned and his weak body instinctively struggled against Youngbae. In the darkness of the water, as his life slipped away from him like grains of sand, Jiyong didn’t think of the past. He didn’t conjure up memories of long-gone happiness and peace.

He saw instead a beautiful brown girl in a white nightgown running through a huge house. His house. Their home. Her unruly curled hair bounced around her as she screamed joyously, her eyes made into little crescent moons as she shouted in delight at whatever was chasing her. She finally made it to the kitchen and Jiyong bent down on the floor to wrap her in his arms.

“I’m safe,” she laughed, her cheeks full and her face as round as Jiyong's own. Youngbae appeared behind her, laughing and catching his breath, amusement and tenderness in his eyes.

“You’re safe,” Jiyong repeated with a gentle smile and suddenly everything was filled with a most brilliant and pure white light. 

* * *

When Seunghyun walked down to the pond, he already knew what had happened.

He had returned to find all the doors in the house opened, soaking the inside with the rain that had long since stopped falling. He walked to the back of the house and followed the trail of what he would later come to know was Jiyong’s body, dragged through the grass.

And in the distance, Seunghyun could see the outline of two men brought to their knees in front of dark water, sharing the heavy burden of their love.

Seunghyun screamed.

* * *

Three months later, Jiyong opened his eyes to the late morning sunshine and soft, white sheets.

Today would be the day. The first day of the rest of his life.

He rose from the bed and stumbled into the bedroom, still weary despite having just been asleep. In the mirror, he stared at a scar on his forehead until it made his stomach churn. He brushed his hair over it.

Jiyong took his time choosing the perfect outfit, deciding on a pair of dark jeans, and a white button-up shirt with a red cardigan. He took longer than usual in getting ready and the butterflies in his chest wouldn’t let up. He smiled despite them. Today was going to be a great day. The best day.

When Jiyong padded down the stairs, he was met with the smell of eggs and coffee and Youngbae.

He stopped by the door, watching his husband as he sat at the head of the table, drinking black coffee, and no doubt as nervous as he felt.

Youngbae had saved Jiyong. Somehow, despite the power of the darkness within, he had broken out of his spell and brought Jiyong's limp body out of the water. He had brought Jiyong back from the edge, literally breathing life back into him. When Jiyong coughed out the water from his lungs, Youngbae had held him tightly, tears of relief running down his cheeks, their freezing bodies trembling as they waited for help to arrive.

Jiyong didn't remember this. He only remembered the hospital room and Seunghyun and Youngbae's worried faces.

“Bae-ah,”Jiyong called out softly, and even now, even after all the years that had passed and all the horror that had almost strangled them alive, Jiyong’s heart still skipped a beat at his husband’s answering smile.

“Morning,” Youngbae said, his voice once again tender and sweet and so undeniably human. “I’m nervous,” he admitted and Jiyong wanted to cry.

“Daesung and Seunghyun called last night when you were asleep,” Jiyong said as he sat at the table, smiling when he noticed two perfectly-cooked sunny side up eggs on a plate.

“Are they still worried about us?”

Jiyong shook his head and reached out to lace his hand with Youngbae’s. “They just want to know when they can visit. They want to meet her.”

“ _We_ haven’t even met her yet,” Youngbae responded, his thumb rubbing anxiously against Jiyong’s hand.

“Yes, we have,” Jiyong said simply.

He had. They had always known her, since before they had even known each other.

Youngbae searched Jiyong's eyes for any sign of doubt and when he found none, he grinned. "Yeah. I guess we have."

The tell-tale sound of tires on the driveway shook them out of their reverie, and Jiyong and Youngbae exchanged a slow, deep kiss. A kiss full of forgiveness and hope. A kiss to start their new life.

They walked onto the front porch, with their arms around each other.

When their little girl was helped out of the car by the social worker, Jiyong and Youngbae both gasped.

She was the most beautiful sight they had ever laid their eyes on. She was just as Jiyong had pictured: small and tan-skinned with eyes like moonlight and hair like a messy crown. She was light indeed, clad in a violet dress and smiling up at two strange men like she had always known them, like she was coming home.

And they didn't need any words in this moment, because their minds held the same thought. They had felt this strange and unbelievable connection once before, years ago in a underground nightclub. They had already known what love, at first sight, felt like and today, the perfect love inexplicably graced the couple once again. Her name meant light and both men know they would protect her wholeheartedly from anyone that would ever attempt to snuff her brightness out. They would lay down their lives in a heartbeat if it meant keeping her safe.

Jiyong and Youngbae, no longer newly married but, instead, battle-hardened by their brush with death and darkness, stood at the top of the stairs that led to the front porch of their house. Their greatest dream was coming true as they stood with their arms around each other’s waists, looking down at their future with hopeful, bright eyes.


End file.
